THE TIES THAT BIND
by JoaniexJony
Summary: When Sheppard falls ill, the road to recovery takes a different turn than anyone could ever imagine. Sequel to 'REUNION' Shep whump, but I also share the pain with Carson, Rodney and Dave. Hope you enjoy the ride.
1. Chapter 1

When Sheppard falls ill, the road to recovery takes a different turn than anyone could ever imagine. Sequel to **'REUNION' **Shep gets well whumped in this one, but I also share the pain with Carson, Rodney and even Dave. Hope you enjoy the ride.

Disclaimer: SGA isn't mine, if it was you know the boy's would still be on every week.

Warning: A little bad language, and violence later on.

Many thanks to the wonderful **Sherry 57 **for a fabulous beta, and all her great suggestions.

A/N: The first draft of the story has been finished, but as it is still being edited and beta'd, I intend to post no later than every other day.

THE TIES THAT BIND

CHAPTER 1

"Are you alright, Colonel Sheppard?" John looked up with a start to see Woolsey staring at him, and realised he must have zoned out for a second.

"I'm good…thanks. It's been a rough few days and like everyone else on base, I haven't had much sleep, but in answer to your question we managed to evacuate three-thousand and fifty of Alunstran's population before the hive ship arrived. Lorne's team relocated the last refugees this morning." He replied, stifling a yawn.

Woolsey nodded slowly then asked in a low voice. "Do we know yet how many lives were lost?"

"Over a thousand we reckon, but the Elders won't know for sure until they've had a chance to do a census, and with the survivors scattered over three different locations, it could take a while before we get a final death toll." John raked a shaking hand through his hair - man he felt beat. He knew he'd done his best, hell they all had, but one life lost to the Wraith was one too many in his book, let alone the lives of over a thousand civilians. John felt both pissed and demoralised, as it was clear the Wraith had used Atlantis' brief sojourn on Earth to regroup and the trail of devastation they were leaving behind was sickening.

"Get some rest, Colonel, I can see you're dead on your feet." Woolsey said, then gave him a look of concern, "Are you sure that's all it is? Maybe you should get Doctor Keller to check you out."

John pushed himself out of the seat and was surprised at how much effort it took. "I'm fine…just tired, a few hours sleep and I'll be good as new."

"Well take as much down time as you need, Colonel, and please, pass on my congratulations. Everyone did an excellent job in very difficult circumstances, and while it's regrettable so many people died, without their efforts I have no doubt the death toll would have been even greater." Woolsey responded and while he talked, rose to his feet and slowly walked him to the door.

It was only just past fourteen hundred hours and normally John would have sought out his team in the mess hall, but the truth was he didn't feel so great. Some of the kids they'd rescued had come down with the Athosian version of chicken pox – Valdernt's spot Teyla called it, but John just hoped it was exhaustion making each step arduous, the sheer motion of putting one foot in front of the other a struggle. Without wanting to draw attention to himself he subtly checked out his arms while he walked. He couldn't see any yellow spots, at least none visible, so really hoped it was just too many hours without sleep bringing him down, or maybe even a cold – he could handle that. What he couldn't handle was being stuck in the infirmary looking like a refugee from 'Sesame Street', and getting laughed at by Rodney while he took pictures to send round the base.

In the sanctity of his quarters John shivered, and cursed McKay for fiddling with the environmental controls again. He checked the dial and was surprised to see the thermostat read sixty-eight degrees as usual, instead of the fifty something it felt. Of course, he then realised it could be a system wide failure as the geeks had been helping with the relocation, so hadn't been around to attend to the domestics of running a large city.

Now cold as well as miserable, he dimmed the lights and slumped onto the bed. John knew what he needed was a hot shower and a bite to eat, but he felt achy and his body demanded rest – now. Besides, the indigestion which kicked off this morning had now cranked up a notch, so he just wanted to sleep. He was tempted to swing by the infirmary for some Pepto-Bismol, but couldn't face all the questions and prodding involved, so shucking off his boots he eased himself down flat, savouring the soft, cool feel of cotton as his head sank into the pillow. John felt a little guilty at lying there fully clothed in the middle of the day, but reckoned a short nap was just what the doctor ordered and after that, he'd be just fine…

ooooOoooo

"Where the hell is he?" Rodney blurted out the question to no one in particular, as he checked his watch for the umpteenth time. "I told Sheppard I needed to see him after he finished with Woolsey, and I've just saw Mr W. leaving the mess hall, alone - so what's keeping him?"

Radek took off his glasses and wiped them on his tee, then squinted up at his companion. "Now, Rodney…we both saw the colonel when he came through the 'gate – he looked exhausted. I'll admit that it's not like him to forget a meeting, but he's probably just in his quarters resting," he reasoned, then implored, "why don't you let the man get some sleep. I know this is important, but let's face it, the Trojan has obviously been in the database for at least months, maybe even years, so a few more hours isn't going to make much difference."

In response, Rodney glared at him, then turned to the side and activated his radio. "Sheppard. It's McKay…where are you?" _no answer _"Okay, flyboy, I know you're tried – well guess what, we all are, but that doesn't give you an excuse to stand me up." Rodney stopped when he realised how weird that sounded, but when John still didn't answer, he wasn't prepared to give up, so touching his radio again. "Right you asked for it, I'm coming down there, so better make sure you're decent!"

Out the corner of his eye Rodney saw the Czech shaking his head, muttering something in his native tongue as he moved away, which he guessed wouldn't be complimentary, but didn't care. Well he did, but not so much about what Radek thought of him, although he actually valued his associates opinion, but still, he was worried. It had been sheer luck while re-routing power to the heating conduits he'd discovered the Trojan, which raised all sorts of scary questions – like how long had it been there? What was it designed to do, and who had planted it there in the first place?

Rodney remembered the havoc caused when the Wraith planted a virus during their so called alliance, and it scared the crap out him to know there had been something lying hidden, causing all sorts of damage to their database for hell knew how long. Okay, so he accepted the intensive scans they'd carried out since it's discovery hadn't revealed any damage, but still, even if it was lying dormant he needed to know how to purge it from the system. So far though he hadn't managed it, and much to his frustration despite everything they'd tried, it was still there, waiting to wreak devastation in their systems, perhaps even potentially destroy the base, and Rodney felt helpless - a feeling that didn't sit at all well with him.

Still, there was something about it's configuration which seemed vaguely familiar, although he didn't think it was Wraith. The fact was, despite racking his brains he didn't have a clue, but guessed that somehow Sheppard might. John was smart, but in a non geek like way, and although it would take wild horses to make him admit it, the flyboy often had the knack of putting his finger on the problem when no one else could, so he needed him…even if it was just to offer moral support.

As he stormed out the lab into the busy corridor, he suddenly realised that it wasn't like the colonel to ignore anyone, let alone him, even if it was only to tell him to get lost. Three times he'd hailed Sheppard and hadn't gotten a reply, and he was starting to get a really bad feeling knowing John wasn't that sound a sleeper. For a moment he contemplated calling Beckett, then dismissed it immediately, knowing if John was, as he suspected, just catching some z's, the pilot wouldn't be the only one he'd piss off, and Beckett had a lot of big needles. Of course, if Sheppard really did have his head down, then he would've taken his radio off first. There was the other possibility his friend had simply gone for a run before he went to bed, and he, more than anyone, was aware how bad reception could be in some parts of the city. Just as he was tying himself up in mental knots, Rodney stupidly realised what he should have done earlier.

Without stopping he activated his radio. "It's Doctor McKay - can you give me Colonel Sheppard's location please?"

After a moments silence Chuck's voice replied. "Colonel Sheppard is in his quarters."

Rodney stopped dead and for a long moment he could only stand there, panicked, as his heart pounded against his chest and the blood roared through his ears, deafening him. Then he started running and without stopping did what his gut had told him to do only minutes before. "Beckett! Get your ass down to Sheppard's quarters now - he's in trouble."

ooooOoooo

When the wall of pain hit, it was all consuming, the vice like grip squeezing his chest agonising, leaving him breathless and barely able to move.

John didn't know how long ago the sharp pain had woken him from a restless sleep, his radio so near but in his helpless state too far to reach. He'd heard Rodney's angry, then worried tones, but white hot pain seared down his arm when he raised his hand, and his nightmare deepened when the damn thing fell from the night stand then flew across the room. His frustration overwhelming, as bitter tears fell unhindered, knowing help was within his grasp but in too much agony to make the call.

Surrounded by shadows, John wondered if this was how he was going to die. After everything he'd been through, Afghanistan, Koyla, the Wraith, and even the replicators, was it going to be here, alone, in the silence of his room? Death itself was not something that troubled him, as he'd made peace with the spectre of the grim reaper a long time ago. The manner of his demise was another matter however, sometime he'd always hoped to have some say in, although deep down, only too aware he didn't have the right. Not that he wanted to die, what sane person did? He had dreams, ambitions, which he still wanted to fulfil, but in the back of his mind John hoped if he didn't survive to live out the twilight of his years as a grumpy ex-vet, then he wanted to die while protecting his people, or even saving innocents from harm. If he were to die a pointless death like this - it just seemed so unfair.

"What the hell -" Rodney cried out, and the relief at hearing his friend's voice, was nearly his undoing as he tried to call out and ended up coughing, the resulting spasms constricting him further, as he gasped for air.

"Move out the way, Rodney," he heard Carson bark, then the Scot suddenly appeared at his side, his reproachful look quickly replaced by concern. "I'm here, Colonel, but by the looks of things you should have called me earlier," Carson muttered, "If you can, tell me what's wrong."

"Pain…" John gasped for breath, as he struggled to speak.

"Where about, Colonel?" Carson asked, while inserting a needle into his hand and starting an IV.

"Chest…shoulder….arm," John hissed, then groaned as he bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut.

"What's wrong with him, Carson," Rodney called out from over his shoulder, his anxiety evident in his sharp tone.

"That's what I'm trying to find out, Rodney. Now why don't you leave me to take care of the Colonel, and update the others on the situation? Then bring Teyla and Ronon to the waiting room, and I'll speak to you all once I know more."

John welcomed the icy tingle of morphine that muted his pain, and the fresh, cool oxygen easing the tight band around his lungs, but most of all he was relieved to be no longer alone.

He was barely aware of the frantic pace of activity around him, until he felt a gentle hand on his arm. "It's time to go now, Colonel so just take it easy and let us do all the work. Marie… could you bring the gurney over to the bed please, love – but don't lay him flat," Carson warned, "I want to relieve the pressure on his airways as much as possible."

Darkness was creeping in, and as he felt himself gently lifted, heard a distant voice. _"Hang in there, Colonel, you're going to be okay,"_

And John knew he would be, because whatever happened now, he had friends by his side…

ooooOoooo

TBC.

I hope you enjoyed the start, and please review, as I like to know what you think.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you so much for all the reviews, and alerts. And thanks also to the reviewers without accounts. Unfortunately, I can't answer you individually, as the site doesn't give me that facility.

THE TIES THAT BIND

CHAPTER 2

When Carson first entered the dimly lit quarters, John looked grey through a sheen of sweat. His agony evident in his strained expression, and the white knuckles gripping tightly onto the sheets. The journey to the infirmary one of the longest in his medical career, as he struggled just to keep his patient alive. Now however, Carson was at least satisfied he'd gained some control of the situation, as the colonel was settled in intensive care, where Sheppard's face now looked less pinched than before, although his friend was still not out of danger yet.

In many ways Carson considered diagnostic medicine like putting together the pieces of a puzzle. In this case, the symptoms of an erratic heart beat with severe pain running from the chest down the left arm, combined with breathlessness, were all clues indicating heart failure. Yet, Carson knew John's fever and rising temperature could also mean pneumonia, or a virus, perhaps even an infection - so what the hell was it?

Experience gained as a young medic, during his rotation in the cardiac unit of the Glasgow Royal Infirmary, had taught him it wasn't uncommon for a normally fit, healthy male to get heart failure. Although given the individual concerned, that was one conclusion he didn't want to jump too until all the results came back. Carson only too aware, that if John had suffered a heart attack, whilst it might not finish his military career, it would more than likely land him in a desk job, therefore ending his tenure on Atlantis.

The heart monitor beeped softly affirming proof of life, and as Carson watched the slow rise and fall of John's chest, he felt frustration build up in his own. The colonel was a good man, as well as a good friend but sometimes, it make him angry at the careless way he treated his own health. Time and time again, he'd tried to impress upon John the need to visit the infirmary whenever he started to feel unwell. He tried to convince him, that most conditions if reported early, could be dealt with by the use of medication and bed rest, usually in his quarters. Yet, regardless of his warnings, the reticent man only sought help when the malady had already taken hold, usually too late for him to do more than manage the symptoms, while he languished in an infirmary bed.

Carson guessed that for some reason, one he'd never been able to fathom, Lt Colonel John Sheppard either had an intense dislike of doctors, or he felt succumbing to illness was a sign of weakness – perhaps both. For years, he'd tried to get to the bottom of it, and had even hinted once he should pay a visit to Kate. Except any prying he'd made to unearth the secret was always shut down, along with the expression on John's face, as it was clear that particular suggestion was as unwelcome as a bad smell. Either way, circumstances had once again taken precedence over his curiosity, as John's reasons for staying silent on this occasion would need to remain a mystery, at least for now, until once again hopefully, he got him back on his feet.

"Doctor Beckett. I have the results of Colonel Sheppard's blood work for you." Lesley, one of the lab techs, a pretty girl with short, dark bobbed hair, had appeared by his side, and handed him a clipboard. Her pale, blue eyes clouding over as she stole a quick look at the sick man lying on the bed.

"Thanks, lass…" Carson turned to thank her, but felt guilty as he'd been too intent on reading the results to realise she'd already left.

After going over the findings for the third time, his eyes flicked from the board to his patient, but the smile which played on his lips quickly faded. The news, while better than he expected, still couldn't be called _good_ and despite one hurdle being crossed, there was still a serious matter to be overcome.

ooooOoooo

"Infective Endocarditis? Can't you speak English, Carson? Even I'm struggling to understand what it means, let alone Teyla and Ronon here." Rodney protested, nodding towards his team mates. His initial relief that John hadn't taken a heart attack, now tempered by the realisation that, by the sounds of things, his friend was still seriously ill.

"If you'd given me a minute I _was_ going to explain, Rodney," Beckett replied, clearly miffed, as he slumped down on the seat next to Teyla. "Colonel Sheppard is suffering from an infection that has affected parts of the endocardium – the tissue that lines the inside of the heart chambers. If the condition isn't identified quickly, or left untreated, it can permanently damage the valves of the heart, possibly leading to death, but in the Colonel's case, I think we've managed to diagnose the illness in time. It is imperative however that I find out what kind of infection caused this, and where he caught it from."

Rodney felt dizzy, as the room started to sway. John had seemed okay, apart from looking drawn and pale the last time he'd saw him, so he didn't have a clue where his friend could have picked up a bug. He was worried sick, as it seemed that within minutes the hope they'd just been given, had just as quickly, been taken away.

"Are you alright, son?" He peeled his eyes off the floor to see Carson standing over him, looking concerned.

"I'm fine…It's just been a while since I've eaten," Rodney admitted, as he caught a power bar from Ronon who then took the seat by his side.

Carson folded his arms and shook his head. "I don't need your hypoglycemia acting up now, Rodney. So get yourself to the mess hall and get something to eat…understand?"

He could see from the strained expression on the Scot's face that Carson was concerned about him, and the rebuke while sounding harsh, Rodney knew was well meant. "Sure…I will," he agreed, "but how are you going to find out where Sheppard picked up his infection?"

The doctor's searching gaze took in all of them. "Well, I was hoping one of you would know. Did the colonel mention cutting himself recently, or has anything out of the ordinary happened that might give me a clue?"

Ronon shrugged, Teyla looked sad as she shook her head, then Rodney remembered something. "Would this count? The mess were serving fish the other day, and after he got a piece of bone stuck in his gum, Sheppard needed to have it removed by the dentist. It was just before we started evacuating Alunstran."

A wide smile appeared on Beckett's face, as the Scot punched the air. "Good boy, Rodney - you're a genius!" He slapped his back. "I realise you already know that, but in this case you may just have saved the Colonel's life."

Rodney scratched his head, and squinted up at his friend, puzzled. "I'm pleased that you've finally admitted my true worth, but how come?"

"Well, mouth infections are one of the more common ways in contracting IE. If, as I suspect, Colonel Sheppard did have a lesion in his mouth, and with all the chaos caused by the evacuation didn't have time to follow through with proper after care, then the wound could very easily have become infected. It would have been a simple matter after that for the bacteria to make its way into his bloodstream." Carson replied, then turned to leave. "I'll go and have a word with Doctor Mitchell to confirm, and take a swab, but I think we may have just found the answer."

ooooOoooo

Dave was worried. He'd known from childhood John could be an island, his emotions held deep within a dark remote place where admission was strictly limited, if allowed at all, yet ever since John's near-fatal shooting, and his subsequent visit to Atlantis, they'd enjoyed a better relationship. While it wasn't quite back to the closeness they shared as kids, Dave suspected something was off, as he'd heard nothing to any of his emails and it wasn't like his brother to ignore him. John had received them, he'd checked, and while it was true his sibling was busy saving the universe, or at least Pegasus on a daily basis, he just had a sick feeling something was definitely wrong.

He snapped shut his laptop, stretched out the kinks in his stiff, aching back, then pushed back his chair and made his way over to the window. It was a tough job, with long hours, but one of the perks of being CEO was he got the biggest office with the best view. From here he could see everything, including the people on the side walk who looked more like ants scurrying around, which in a sense Dave realised wasn't far from the truth, as they were probably just as busy. As for New York itself, the city was impressive, her high rise landscape glowing, surrounded by the golden hues of the setting sun, yet no where he'd seen could compare to Atlantis. His visit to the lost city had been a revelation in so many ways. Atlantis was stunning, a technological masterpiece, more amazing than anything he could ever have imagined, but if he was honest, it was learning about its military commander that had been the biggest surprise of all.

Up until then, he'd always considered John to be a selfish SOB, a spoiled brat, who'd left him with all the responsibility while he'd stormed off to pursue his dreams. His incommunicado routine, nothing more than a ruse to avoid calling home, while he'd had to explain to a dying old man, why his prodigal son wasn't there for his final hours. Now, after learning about his life and having seen the scars littering his body, Dave felt guilty for how he'd felt back then. These days, he was only too aware what a dangerous life John led, so, in a way it wasn't surprising he feared the worst. There was just one thing that gave him some comfort, the only thing he was completely sure of – John wasn't dead. Why was he so certain? Because, as Dave had leaned from bitter experience, bad news always traveled the fastest.

Still, he also knew John had some damn good friends, one of whom he'd gotten quite close to while he was there, someone who probably worried about his brother more than he did – Carson Beckett. Before he'd left, Mr Woolsey had given his permission to use the Scot's email in case of emergencies. He had Rodney's too, but if he was going to contact anyone, it would be Carson. McKay, while a nice enough guy, rambled, and if Dave wanted information about John...well it would be good to get it before it was _him _who lost the will to live.

As nightfall shrouded the city in inky darkness, the twinkling neon's seemed to send the message it was time to call it a night, but Dave still hadn't decided what to do. His hand was poised over the laptop, and he didn't know whether to email his housekeeper to have dinner ready, or send a message to Beckett. The decision finally made, Dave really hoped his suspicions were wrong, even if it meant the next message he received was from one very pissed off little brother.

ooooOoooo

He hurt all over.

His chest tight and heavy, like a lead weight was pressed against it. His body aching, every single sinew and joint throbbing in time with the beat of his heart. Drenched, John was lying in a pool of sweat, his gown sticking to his skin, and he felt as sick as a dog. Waves of nausea were rolling through him, the stomach cramps getting more painful and burning with every second…

"Easy, Colonel – try not to fight it."

Vaguely aware of Carson's voice, he felt urgent hands quickly roll him on his side, as his oxygen mask was removed, and a basin placed beneath his chin. John succumbed to the misery - he had no choice, barfing up yesterday's oatmeal, then it seemed everything else that had passed his lips during the last few days. His wrenching gut igniting all his other aches to new levels of agony, leaving him breathless, gasping for air.

John heard the monitor wailing, but could only lie there, spent, as he was gently rolled back and the mask with its blessed cool air, once again put back into place. The last thing he could remember was Carson talking to him, as he'd been wheeled to the infirmary. He and Rodney had found him in his quarters, and he'd been in so much pain…

"Colonel. John! Look at me, Son." Carson commanded, and John obeyed, forcing himself to focus on the worried blue eyes staring down at him.

"Amm…I…dying?" He asked, then realised his feeble voice probably sounded like a mumble under the mask.

"No, Colonel - it just feels like it." Beckett replied, then pulled up a chair and started mopping his brow with a cold compress, it felt good.

"And in case you're wondering, you haven't had a heart attack either," Carson informed him, and the concern that had been nagging at the back of his mind, vanished, like a weight had been lifted. But John still felt like hell, and hurt almost as much as when the fierce gripping pain first hit.

"Wha…" He gasped.

"Just lie still, Colonel and let me do the talking. You have Infective Endocarditis, a virus which attacks the lining of the heart, but I'm pretty sure we've managed to catch it before it could do any lasting damage," He said, then John noticed Carson's expression grew serious, "however, you'll need to do what you're told, take the meds and plenty of rest, but provided you follow my instructions to the letter, I can't see any reason why you won't be back on light duty in a couple of months."

"Months!" John groaned, but this time it wasn't all down to the aches spiking through his body.

"Aye, lad – months. A couple if you're lucky. Make no mistake about it, Colonel you are one very sick man, and will be for quite a while, so just lie back and let others take care of you for a change – okay?" Carson gave him a pointed look, so John nodded obediently, then groaned again. This time for real, as his head felt like an ice-pick was piercing though his skull.

"Auch, I'm sorry, son. I didn't mean to blurt it out like that, but you need to understand that I can't give you a quick fix this time." Carson's brow crinkled with remorse, as he turned and gave a silent order to someone just out of sight. The next thing John became aware of was ice cold liquid seeping into his veins, and the fiery pain soon notched down to a muted ache.

"Better?" The Scot asked, and John reckoned he must have looked less strained, as Carson didn't wait for an answer, "I've given you something for the sickness too. Now Marie will get you changed out that damp gown, then I want you to get some sleep…"

"Team?" John was struggling to stay awake, but wanted to make sure his friends were okay.

Carson grunted and shook his head. "_They_ are fine. Worried about you, but I've told them they can come round for a short visit later, if you feel up to visitors. "

"Carson - Thanks."

John didn't hear a reply, but felt a pat on his arm, then its owner walked away dimming the lights as he left. He barely felt Marie changing his gown, but the cool cotton felt good for however long his fevered body could keep the sweats at bay.

Finally alone, John realised he'd got lucky, as he knew a heart attack would have spelled the end of his stay in Atlantis, maybe even his career. Right now though, in pain, nauseous and facing a lot of downtime in his future, _lucky_ was the last word he would use to describe the way he felt…

ooooOoooo

TBC

Poor John! But at least he's on the mend now. I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please review, as I really like to know what you guy's think.


	3. Chapter 3

I want to thank you for the lovely reviews and the alerts, they really mean a lot. Unfortunately I am unable to reply to those without accouts, as the system won't allow it.

Thanks also to my hardworking beta Sherry 57 who is getting my chapters ready for posting. All mistakes are mine though, especially in this chapter which I have tweaked, post beta to within an inch of it's life! Speaking of which...how is John?

THE TIES THAT BIND

CHAPTER 3

"Please, John – just one more spoonful." Teyla used her best persuasive tone, but was disappointed to see it cut no ice with the man in the bed as John just drew his lips together, and turned his head away like a petulant child.

Teyla waited for a moment, then let the spoon fall into the bowl, before trying another tack. "If you don't eat, John, you won't regain your strength, and it will take even longer to get back to work. We need you back in the team, because I fear Ronon is going to hit Rodney one of these days… "

"I'll speak to Ronon, and I'd like nothing more than to get out of this freaking bed - but right now I don't see the point in forcing down anything," John blurted out, sounding annoyed, "for one, I'm really not hungry, and another, I'll just chuck it back up in a couple of hours." Then he muttered. "Sometimes I think it would be easier if Ronon were just to shoot me."

Teyla placed the bowl on the bedside cabinet and gave him a searching look. "I thought Carson said the sickness was receding?"

John snorted. "Oh, yeah. Instead of every hour on the hour, it's just every two – a BIG improvement."

"Now, now, Colonel – I understand your frustration, son, but that's a bit of an exaggeration." Carson corrected, as he came up and stood beside Teyla.

"So what if it is? You know the score, Carson. It doesn't matter whether its one hour, two, or even this afternoon, at some point all of that _yummy_ broth is going to make a re-appearance." John slammed his head back against the pillow, and grimaced, clearly in pain.

Carson scanned his patients face, picked up the chart, then took the syringe nestling in his pocket. "I think it's time for a top up, Colonel. But when the pain med's kick in, and you're feeling a wee bit less crabbit, you and I are going to have a serious talk."

"Sure…whatever." Teyla saw John give the medic a scathing look, before blanking them both out by squeezing his eyes shut.

"Now how many times did I hear that when we were growing up?" John's eyes sprang open, and Teyla was just as surprised to see Dave Sheppard strolling towards them.

"It's good to see you again, Teyla, Carson – you too little brother." Dave shook Carson's hand before going to sit by the bed.

"How…who?" John mumbled, his eyes flitting between all three, before giving both his friends a suspicious glare.

Dave shook his head and laughed, but Teyla could see the concern hidden behind his forced smile. "Does it matter? All I know is you're a lucky guy to have friends like these who put up with your crap."

Just at that moment Teyla noticed John's face go scarlet, the flush of fever sending beads of perspiration dripping from his brow, but Dave simply picked up the cloth nearby and started mopping his brother's face.

"Have you got anything to eat, Carson? I'm starving." Dave asked, giving them both a wink.

"I'm just leaving to meet Ronon and Rodney in the mess hall," Teyla informed him and then offered, "would you like me to bring something back?"

Dave nodded. "That would be great - thanks. And say 'Hi' for me, and that I'll catch up with them later. I want to have a chat with this guy first." Teyla saw him nodding towards John, ignoring his sour look, and she felt relief flood through her.

Teyla had been worried, they all had, as John's recovery was taking longer than Carson had expected. True to his initial diagnosis, John fortunately hadn't sustained any further damage, but the strong medication was playing havoc with his system, and her friend had been lying ill for so long now, he was starting to become depressed. Though from what she could see, it appeared as though a visit from his brother was just what the doctor ordered…literally.

ooooOoooo

Even dosed up with Carson's happy juice, his chest still felt tight and sore, every muscle aching, but pain he could deal with - what he hated most was the constant nausea. What with that, and the persistent fever he was as weak as a freaking kitten, and pissed off that even after ten days he was still a bed ridden invalid.

John knew he'd got lucky, but he sure as hell didn't feel like it. He was positive there were cadavers in the morgue with more energy than him, and during his worst moments when he was throwing up, doubled in pain and struggling to get a breath – he actually wished Ronon would put him out his misery. Now with his brothers _surprise_ arrival, his humiliation was complete, as it was apparent some smart ass, probably Carson, had planned an intervention behind his back. He was furious - what the fuck was Dave going to do? Tell him to eat his greens and be a good boy!

"Why don't you just cut the crap, Dave and tell me why you're really here?" John asked, pointedly. "'Cause apart from the fact I might feel like it, Carson tells me I'm not actually dying." His voice trailed off at that part, and John immediately regretted his outburst when he saw the hurt, anxious look on his siblings face. "Hell, Dave – I'm sorry. It's just…"

Dave put down the cloth and turned to face him full on. "Forget about it John – I get it. This must be torture for an active guy like you, besides I know how much you hate accepting help from anyone. But you've got to snap out of this buddy, there's a lot of good people really worried about you. Carson's trying to play it cool, but even he's getting really concerned." Dave pointed out, then folded his arms and leaned back on the chair. "Anyway, apart from the fact I wanted to check up on you, I've just received some news about dad's estate we need to discuss."

The pain meds were starting to kick in and he was feeling drowsy, but at Dave's announcement, he roused himself. "I thought all that had all been settled after the funeral?"

Dave shrugged. "So did I, and I was just as surprised as you when the lawyer contacted me a few days ago." Dave said, then went on to explain. "Anyway, apparently dad sold a piece of prime real estate years ago, with the proviso that if it ever came up for sale again, he would be allowed first refusal."

"So, why didn't you just tell them to sell it?" John asked, curious.

"Well, I was going to, until I found out where it was. It's a house in Hawaii, John. Set on the beach, beside the sweetest waves on the island, and if I'm honest – I thought of you."

"Me? Look Dave, I have to admit it sounds great, but I already have a home here. Besides, I would never have time to visit the place." John reasoned.

In answer, Dave reached down and bought up a laptop he'd brought with him. "Look, John, I know you love Atlantis, but you won't be able to do this job forever. I just think it would make sense to invest in a place of your own for the future, somewhere you could call home when you retire. Sure, the house is a bit of a wreck, but nothing that couldn't be fixed, and you could let it out for rental in the meantime, my people could make all the arrangements." Dave stopped, and John saw him looking when he couldn't suppress a yawn. "Tell you what, I can see you're tired so I'm going to leave this, but just think about it, would you?

John watched his brother place the laptop on the bedside cabinet as he rose to leave. "Thanks, Dave…for thinking about me, and coming to visit – I appreciate it. And, I will have a look at this later."

"Promise?" Dave asked, giving him a suspicion look.

John felt the corners of his mouth lift up. "Yeah, I promise. Now will you get out of here and let me get some sleep?"

"Grouch!" Dave replied, but John saw him smiling. "I'll catch you later, John, and next time I'll be bringing food. But be warned, I won't be taking any of your crap about not eating." Dave wagged his finger at him, but John saw the smile was still there taking the sting out the threat.

"Tell you what...if you can sweet talk Martha into making some of her turkey broth, you have a deal."

ooooOoooo

Rodney felt like a heel, guilty at not having been to see Sheppard, but the first (and last) time he'd visited during John's current spell in the infirmary, the man couldn't stop throwing up.

It wasn't something he was proud of, but Rodney couldn't abide sickness. He knew only too well how pathetic that made him sound, but the sad truth was whenever he witnessed anything _unpleasant, _it made him feel green around the gills. The first time it happened, he thought he'd caught what his roomy had, but after a few similar vile incidents, it soon became clear that his disloyal stomach sympathised with whoever the victim happened to be.

Ever since then, Rodney realised it was far better for everyone's sake if he kept his distance until whatever bug it was, had finally bit the dust. He knew Beckett understood, as did Teyla, but Ronon had been a bit off with him lately, although if he was honest he was more worried about John's reaction to his absence.

When he strolled into the dimmed ward, the man himself was currently lying sleeping in the corner bed. With his pale skin and gaunt features, Rodney thought John still looked like crap, but according to the voodoo expert, Carson, Sheppard was finally on the road to recovery. So, armed with his chessboard under one arm, and his laptop under the other, Rodney was about to sit down next to the bed and wait for sleeping beauty to wake up, when he saw Carson waving him into the office.

"Is everything still okay, Carson…he has stopped puking, hasn't he?" Rodney asked, feeling suddenly hesitant.

Carson nodded, while ushering him inside and motioning for him to take a seat. "Yes, yes - you're quite safe, the Colonel's feeling a lot better. I just need to speak to you about something."

"Sure, what is it?" He asked, puzzled.

The doctor's face grew serious. "I don't want you to worry him with anything."

Indignant, Rodney stood up and the chess set fell to the ground, scattering all the pieces over the floor. "Oh, that's _nice_…that really is, Carson. What kind of man do you think I am?"

However Beckett remained where he was, looking unfazed. "The kind of man who is so worried about what could happen to the city, he might unwittingly let slip what was bothering him…"

"Oh."

"Mr Woolsey told me all about the Trojan you found, and Radek was so worried about how much time you're spending in the lab, he came to see me." Carson pointed out, then softened his tone "Look, son, I know you wouldn't intentionally hurt John, but he's been left severely weakened by this bloody virus and when he's well enough to be discharged, I want him to take a holiday. And, we both know he won't leave if he thinks Atlantis is in danger."

Rodney grumbled indignantly, and was about to lay into his friend, but abruptly stopped when he saw Beckett's expression didn't change. "Of course I won't say anything, but Sheppard, take a vacation? How the hell are you going to manage that – does he even know what a vacation is?" He asked, incredulous at what Carson was trying to do.

"Well Dave and I have put together a plan, but I'll need everyone's support to carry it out. So are you in?" Carson gave him a hooded look as he asked.

Rodney huffed as he knelt down to pick up the chess pieces "Of _course_. Really, Carson you do know how to hurt a guy."

"I'm sorry, Rodney, but I know how obsessed you get with your work. Speaking of which, when you're done visiting the Colonel, I want you to head straight to your quarters for a full eight hours – doctor's orders." When Rodney groaned, Carson drew him a look. "No arguments, in fact I'll send Ronon down to make sure my orders are being carried out…"

Rodney squinted up to see his friend staring at him with a no nonsense expression. "Fine. But you're nothing but a bully, do you know that?"

In response, Carson just smiled as he knelt down and helped him pick up the remaining pieces. Then a noise from outside caught their attention. "I think your chess partner has just woken up. He hasn't said anything, but I know he's missed you, Rodney. Enjoy your visit, but make sure you don't tire him out."

He was going to say something in protest, but suddenly realised how worried Carson must have been, and still was, to say what he'd had, so instead, Rodney just nodded and made his way towards the bed.

A flashback of John's agonised face as he'd struggled to breathe made him feel unaccustomedly nervous, as he saw his friend turn and watch his approach. "Look, Sheppard, I'm really sorry…"

John just nodded towards the board. "It doesn't matter…I'll take the black."

ooooOoooo

TBC

So John is on the road to recovery and is also enjoying a family reunion - it's all looking looking good, isn't it? However, is it going to stay that way?

Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please review. BTW, in case you don't know 'crabbit' is an old Scot's word for being irritable - but you probably got the drift!


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks again for all the reviews and alerts - I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far. And thanks again to my beta Sherry 57 - but all mistakes are mine!

Now it's time to catch up and see how our favourite Lt Colonel is doing.

THE TIES THAT BIND

CHAPTER 4

McKay could be an arrogant, condescending, pain in the ass at times, but Ronon liked him.

He was as irritating as hell, but also honest and uncompromising, something Ronon admired, as the scientist was unafraid to say what he thought, whether he liked it or not. It was a quality the Satedan respected because he'd been burned by so called friends before, but there was no deception with McKay, no pretty words, and Rodney was prepared to face up to anyone, if he believed he was right.

McKay was also surprisingly brave, especially for a geek. When Ronon found out he was part of his team he'd wondered at Sheppard's choice, but Rodney had got them out of some bad situations with his smarts, and he was a courageous little guy, even if he wasn't the best shot. The man was a true contradiction, yet Ronon couldn't get his head round the fact, that while McKay put his life on the line alongside them, he'd stayed away from Sheppard, just because of a little sickness.

Teyla had tried to explain it to him, but Ronon just didn't get it. In his book it was simple. If your friend needed help or support you gave it, no questions asked, human frailty was something he really didn't understand. Still, at least judging by what he could see now, he reckoned McKay was trying to make up for lost time.

From his viewpoint by the door, he could see the two bowed heads of his friends engrossed in a game of chess. John's eyes looked huge in his pale face, but more alive than he'd seen him in weeks. In comparison, Rodney seemed tense. His shoulders looked rigid; although Ronon saw his head bob from time to time whenever he made a move. To Ronon, chess was a game he just didn't get. He understood it all right, Sheppard having explained it to him once, but personally, he didn't see the point. To him, he got way more satisfaction from taking out a real opponent, feeling the crunch of bones under his fist, or sending them to hell with his blaster - knocking over a lump of wood, would never do it for him. Still, it was good to see them together again, as these guys were his family, and Ronon didn't like when the status quo was upset in any way.

He still found it hard to believe after everything they'd been through, it was a freaking virus that had nearly taken out his best friend. Over the years, he'd seen Sheppard turn into a bug, nearly sucked dry by a Wraith and almost bleed to death after being impaled by a piece of rebar, but a virus – that was no way for a warrior to die.

Now with John finally on the mend it was McKay Beckett was worried about. The doc was so concerned about McKay working too hard, he'd been asked to take the stubborn SOB under his wing. His instructions, to make sure the geek took the time to eat and sleep, as Rodney had done little of either, having barely left his lab for weeks.

"You ready to go, McKay? I'm heading for the mess hall." Both men looked up surprised, neither of them having heard his approach and Ronon suppressed a smile. It pleased him to know that despite being a big guy, he was light on his feet and could still get the jump on anyone, anywhere, even if it was just a couple of friends.

"Yeah…suppose so, but I want to check something in the lab first." Rodney's expression was mutinous as he mumbled his reply, showing no signs of leaving as he stretched on the chair and rubbed the back of his neck.

Sheppard looked shattered, but his bleary eyes became suddenly alert. "Oh? What are you working on?"

"Nothing…well obviously _something_. What I mean is its nothing important, just an experiment Zelenka and I have been setting up." Rodney blustered, and Ronon just hoped the scientist would manage to keep his mouth shut about the Trojan he'd found in the database.

Unfazed, John persisted. "What kind of experiment? You've never mentioned it before. Is there anything wrong? Something I should know about?"

Rodney's face went scarlet. "Of course not! It's just that we think we might have discovered a new way to boost the power of the ZePM's…"

"Right, visiting time's over, lads. The colonel here needs his beauty sleep." Beckett interrupted, and Ronon watched Rodney sag with relief. He just hoped Sheppard had been too beat to notice something was up, as McKay was a really bad liar.

"Okay, well I'll see you tomorrow then, Sheppard." Rodney jumped up, nearly knocking over the pieces in his haste.

"Catch you later, Sheppard." Ronon said, then turned and give McKay's shoulder a nudge. "C'mon, McKay, lets go."

John's face fell as he mumbled his good nights, and Ronon was pleased when Beckett distracted him by checking his vitals. From what he could tell, it didn't look like Sheppard had caught on. He hoped not, as John had been real sick and still wasn't well, so the cloak and dagger routine was for his own good. Ronon did feel guilty about his part in the deception though.

Ronon wasn't happy as he hated lying to him, and withholding information - was just as bad. Sheppard was his buddy and had always been straight with him, but Beckett had asked them to keep shtum about the Trojan as he reckoned if John found out, the stress could damage his heart. Personally, he thought John could handle it, but took the doc at his word, besides, he knew McKay would figure it out before Sheppard got wind of it.

What he wasn't sure about was this dumb plan Beckett and Dave were cooking up. Ronon understood the guy's meant well, but Sheppard got pissed when people didn't consult him, never mind planning a vacation behind his back. Beckett though, was so sure John needed this to get well, Ronon agreed to say nothing...but he didn't like it.

ooooOoooo

It was freezing, and he was drenched to the bone, but the driving rain suited his mood as it wasn't just Atlantis showing her worst side today.

John was angry, but the rage which had propelled him onto the pier was now fading fast, and he was shivering, his muscles shaking with exhaustion and his breathing becoming laboured, even though he'd only come a short way. He hated feeling constantly weak and being treated like an invalid, but he'd accepted the help so far as he'd had no choice. What he couldn't accept, and didn't know if he could forgive, was being duped and treated like a freaking idiot by those he trusted.

He knew he'd been sick, and he'd tolerated being stuck in the infirmary for what seemed like forever, but he was better now. A lot better, and couldn't understand why Carson wouldn't let him leave. John knew the guy cared, but this was ridiculous. He felt like a prisoner instead of the military leader of the base, so what if he still felt a little weak? A few days in his quarters catching up with emails wouldn't hurt, then maybe in a week or so, back to light duty. This was his base, they were his people and he needed to get back to work - didn't he get it? John was so sick and tired of being _sick_, he just wanted his life back to normal. What the hell he didn't need or want, were people making decisions on his behalf – he wasn't a child.

As for his brother – how dare he. When Dave had first approached him about the house in Hawaii, he'd been skeptical, but in the end took his advice and made his first tentative step on the property ladder. Not for himself, as John couldn't imagine growing old, let alone settling down, but he bought it as a vacation pad for the Atlantis folks, his _family,_ a place where they could blow off steam when they had some down time.

He'd even envisioned spending a short vacation there himself, maybe next year, or the next, whenever he had the time. John loved Hawaii, having fallen for the island after his mom had taken them to see the place of her birth. He remembered that vacation well. The fun they'd had running in and out of the sea, and the warm feel of the sand as it sunk beneath his feet. It was a cool place, beautiful with awesome waves, and he'd always intended to return, but he'd been too busy. Just like now, he could barely afford to spend the time being ill, let alone visit his new place. The way he saw it, the Wraith wouldn't take a vacation, so neither could he.

What John didn't expect, and sure as hell didn't want, was a fucking, enforced vacation! He wondered just how long Dave and Carson had schemed and planned behind his back before presenting it to him as a fait accompli. They'd came to see him wearing huge grins plastered over their faces, like a freaking double act, and looking oh, so, pleased with themselves. He'd listened while they'd given him the _good_ news, informing him that instead of recuperating on Atlantis, he was to spend four weeks in his new place in Hawaii. John had let them talk, in truth because he was too stunned at first to make any response, but in any case, he'd wanted to hear just how far they'd gone taking liberties with his life.

Once they'd finished giving him the spiel that he needed peace and quiet, and couldn't possibly recover living in his place of work, John had told them exactly what he thought, not just about their plan, but also of them, for daring to make decisions on his behalf. At the time, he'd gained some satisfaction as he watched their smiles slowly fade, but soon felt like a heel when the color drained from Carson's face as he slipped out the bed then staggered past them out the ward. John was mad at them for sure, furious at not being consulted, but he'd gone too far, and now he was angry at himself.

Deep down he knew they'd only been looking out for his best interests, but he hated it. He was just so frustrated and angry. Angry with himself for getting sick, frustrated that he still felt as weak as a kitten after all this time, and really, really hurt that they hadn't felt able to come to him with the suggestion. What the hell was he, an ogre? Sure, he admitted when it came to his job he was nearly as obsessed as McKay. Still, to plan everything to the last detail behind his back – that just wasn't right. John was sorry he'd lost his temper, he'd been out of line, but then so had they. Good intentions aside, what they'd done was all wrong…

"John…I'm sorry. Please, come in out the rain." He heard Dave calling to him, and his voice was full of remorse, but John didn't turn to face him as he didn't want anyone, least of all his brother to see his face streaked with tears.

"Go away, Dave. Get off this pier, off Atlantis and out of my life." John didn't really mean the words he spat out, but couldn't seem to control anything he did these days.

"If that's what you really want, I will." Dave said. "But not before I get you inside – look at yourself, John you're shaking. If it wasn't for that railing holding you up, you'd be flat on your face."

John reluctantly turned to face him, and was shocked to see his brother, a captain of industry, looking upset with fear shining out the familiar blue eyes.

"Why did you do it Dave?" He asked. "Carson, I can partly understand as all he can think of is my health, but you, why did you think it would be okay to humiliate me by treating me like a kid? I thought we'd got past all that, but what you did, that's just the sort of thing I would have expected from dad…"

"And it's because of him I did it, but not in the way you think." Dave interrupted. "I had to watch the old man suffer years of agony with heart disease, before it finally killed him, and when I saw you, lying in that bed…I couldn't face losing my brother, not the same way, especially after just finding you again."

John watched, rooted to the spot, as Dave make up the ground between them, raising his voice to be heard over the brewing storm. "I am so sorry if I made you feel small, but when Carson told me how ill you'd been, and how weak you'd become, I just acted on instinct. But my reason for wanting you to buy the house was real, although I will admit neither Carson nor I believed you would ever take the break you needed, unless someone arranged it for you," he said, then gave him a wry smile, "I was also kind of hoping we could spend some time there together – give us a chance to chill out and really re-connect. Let's face it, we never got the chance the last time you were on Earth, and I've really missed my kid brother."

Stunned, the last of the adrenaline which had brought him to the ledge vanished, as John stumbled and would have fallen to his knees, if not for Dave catching his arm. "Less of the kid," John protested, but smiled to take the sting out his rebuke. "Anyway, I think it's time I went in now – I don't want _you_ catching your death of cold." he quipped, but then the shivers took hold, and he coughed, wracking his body.

Dave shook his head, as he shouldered John towards the wheelchair, waiting by the door. "You're a piece of work, John – you know that?"

"So I've been told." John coughed again, then his chest went into spasms and he struggled for air.

"Hell's bells! I know you're pissed at me son," Carson exclaimed as he ran forward, "and maybe you're entitled, but that doesn't give you the right to nearly kill youself."

John could barely stand, as Carson quickly shouldered his other arm before helping Dave maneuver him onto the chair. By now, too weak to object as the Scot layered so many blankets around him he felt like an extra from 'The Mummy.'

"I'mmm…f-fine…g-good." He tried to tell them, but the words wouldn't come out right. It didn't matter though, as John knew he was with people who cared, so it seemed as good a time as any to pass out…

ooooOoooo

TBC

Oh, dear, John didn't take that suggestion too well...

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please review - as your comments really give me encouragement to keep writing.


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks to those who reviewed and for those of you still following the story.

THE TIES THAT BIND

CHAPTER 5

His mum once told him the road to hell was paved with good intentions, now Carson realised how right she was, as he watched Sheppard's fever return with a vengeance that night. Fortunately though John's heart was holding up under the strain, but he reckoned that was more down to heavenly intervention than thanks to him and his _grand_ plan.

Carson had wanted to avoid a showdown with the colonel, as he knew only too well how Sheppard felt about taking time off, and although he'd meant well, unfortunately his scheming had backfired big time. He now felt guilty knowing John's setback was all down to him. Luckily this time however John's fever spiked fairly quickly, and he was relieved that within a couple of days Sheppard was well enough to give them all the cold shoulder, including his team, who he'd guessed – rightly – had also been aware of the plan. John was speaking to his brother though, which at least was something, but as Dave was going to leave in the morning Carson knew he had to end his reign of silence quickly, as he wasn't prepared to let Sheppard's black mood compromise his health.

"How are you feeling this evening, Colonel?" Carson asked, in a no nonsense tone, ignoring Sheppard's sour expression as he pointedly stared straight ahead.

"Fine…"

Carson then pulled out the chair, sat down, and folded his arms. "No, son – you're not."

When John turned to glare at him, he held the stare and continued. "Considering how ill you were, I'll concede that you are a lot better, but fine – no. Whether you want to hear this or not, Colonel, the fact is you will not be fit to return to even light duty for some weeks. Also, due to the nature of your illness I have advised Mr Woolsey it is essential you spend this period away from your place of work. Where you do that is up to you, but it won't be here, son, as you need to avoid stress, and we both know if you hang around it won't be long until you stick your nose into Atlantis business."

"That's a load of bull!" John protested and drew him daggers.

"Is it?" Carson responded, looking sceptical. "I'll admit I went about giving you the news the wrong way, as I should have done what I'm doing now – telling, not asking you, to take a break. I also realise I shouldn't have tried to deceive you, Colonel, and for that I'm sorry, but I'm not going to apologise for making you take the rest your body badly needs."

There was a tense silence for a moment, then John turned to him and instead of anger there was frustration written over his face. "Look, Carson, I'll admit I was pissed, still am a bit…but I know you meant well. I also know you could ground my sorry ass into next year if you wanted – but four weeks? That's a helluva long time, can't you make it two?"

Carson slowly shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not, Colonel. That bloody virus has severely weakened you, and it'll take more than a couple of weeks to get back to normal. How long is it since you've had a vacation anyway?" He asked and got his answer in the flush covering Sheppard's face.

"That long, eh?" Carson leaned back and gave him a grim smile. "You do realise it was exhaustion that contributed to your illness in the first place? It's entirely probable the infection wouldn't have resulted in such a serious outcome, if you hadn't been so run down in the first place."

He paused for a moment then looked John straight in the eye, "Tell you what, Colonel. I'll make it three weeks, but only on the proviso I like your results at the end of it, and you promise to take a full two week vacation every year from now on."

"Carson..." John moaned, as he thumped his head back against the pillows, but Carson continued undaunted.

"That, and you give your team a break. It was Dave and I, who came up with the plan so if you want to blame anyone – blame us. I know for a fact they were desperate to tell you, but I wouldn't let them. In any case, laddie, while I am sorry for not being straight with you before, you really do need to lose the attitude, because at the end of the day, it was done with your welfare at heart."

After he'd finished his speech, both men sat in silence for a moment until John finally spoke. "Three weeks in paradise, huh? Well I suppose I could cope with that. But how about you guys come and join me after Dave heads home?"

Carson smiled, happy to have reached a truce with his friend. "I was going to pay a flying visit to check up on you, but a wee vacation in the sun sounds just what the doctor ordered. In fact, I'll go and email Doctor Keller right now, and ask her to pick up some of that high factor sun cream before she heads back. Come to think of it, I'd better get a load in especially if Rodney's coming…"

ooooOoooo

Displays of emotion always made John feel uncomfortable, so he was happy to be standing alone in the 'gate room with only the skeleton staff on duty to watch him leave. He'd already said bon voyage while enjoying dinner with his team the night before, and made them promise they'd visit in two weeks time. They in turn had presented him with a camera, with instructions to email some shots, and Rodney gave him a Kindle downloaded with 'War & Peace." He was sorry to be leaving them behind, but knew they all had their own lives, besides he was looking forward to spending some quality time with his brother. John was worried about McKay though. Rodney was quieter than usual, not even a snark, but his probing had got him nowhere, so when the scientist told him he was suffering a headache, John put his suspicion down to paranoia, and really, really hoped that nothing was seriously wrong.

After a last lingering glance around the only real home he'd ever known, John nodded to Chuck and within moments he arrived in the SGC, where General Landry was waiting to greet him with a medic pushing a wheelchair. John knew he didn't need it, and reckoned it was a little payback for the time he'd disobeyed orders during the replicator invasion, but submitted to the humiliation of being wheeled through the gloomy concrete corridors, knowing the quicker he got through the standard checks, the sooner he could get on his way.

Forty-eight hours later, John stepped out into the sunshine and filled his lungs with fresh, clean mountain air. Despite the fact he was on leave, the doc had confined him to the infirmary ever since after his arrival, and it was now official - the whole invalid thing was getting very old, and he now actually welcomed the opportunity to get away.

John didn't have long to wait as freedom arrived in the shape of a sleek, black limo which would take him to the Sheppard Industries private jet. It was arranged that he'd make the journey himself as Dave was already there, but John relished the silence, his own company welcome after spending so long cooped up under supervision. The ride was smooth and he soon found himself dozing, lulled by the endless stretch of mountains as they whizzed by, cradled by the soft leather as he sank into the seat. There was a decanter of single malt in the armrest tempting him, but John didn't risk it, the meds in his pocket a reminder he was still on the mend, and he didn't want anything to stop him returning to work in three weeks time.

In his book, nothing compared to a 'jumper, but the jet was a sweet ride, and John snagged a visit to the cockpit. He'd been itching to fly, but the wary pilot had taken one look at his wane face, then politely denied his request. John was disappointed, but in a way couldn't blame the guy, aware with the dark circles and gaunt cheeks, he didn't exactly look like a poster boy for 'Men's Health'. The hospitality nearly made up for it though, as the stewardess was pretty, and the in-flight meal was the best food he'd enjoyed in quite a while. He even risked a small beer, but it soon became clear that the low alcohol content wasn't quite low enough, as he soon couldn't keep his eyes open and stretched out on the large leather couch for a short nap, only waking when it was time to buckle up.

A blast of heat nearly took his breath away as he stumbled down the steps. It was a beautiful evening, the rose gold sunset reminiscent of home, but John could barely take in the view as the heat sapped all his remaining strength. He was so damned tired all he wanted was a cold shower and an early night.

Despite being been warned it would take him a while to get his strength back, John was astounded just how exhausted doing nothing had made him feel. All he'd done for the last few hours was sit on his ass, on a car then a plane, but if he hadn't known better he could have sworn someone had taken his body for a ten mile run. Now he felt fit to drop, but Dave was no where in sight although there was a guy coming towards him from a black SUV.

"Mr Sheppard?" A tall slim man in his forties with short wavy hair stopped in front of him.

John roused himself when the man approached, as he didn't know who he was, and the only company he was expecting was his brother. "And who exactly is asking?" John gave the guy a wary look.

The man smiled and extended a hand. "My name is Janus, and I work for your brother. There was an emergency stock holders meeting and he was called away, but asked me to take you to the house, and said to tell you he would join you there tomorrow."

John asked. "Have you any identification, Janus?" Without changing expression the man handed over the clear plastic card with the Sheppard Industries logo. John took the proffered ID, and examined it as carefully as the fading light allowed, but the man on the picture was the same as the person in front of him - Janus Robertson. John was still suspicious though. "Janus, that's an unusual name. If you don't mind me asking how did you come by it?"

Janus broke into a smile. "Well I am the youngest of six sons and until I was born my mother held hopes for a daughter. The name, her mother's – Janice - was picked out in advance. Of course, when I arrived she had to revise her plans, so with all her favorite boys' names already taken, she decided to make up one of her own so Janus it became."

John laughed, and felt himself finally start to relax. "Okay…well, Janus, it's good to meet you, I'm John Sheppard. Now what say you take me to my new pad?"

ooooOoooo

His head was pounding, but Rodney groaned when realisation dawned he'd finished the last of his private stash of Tylenol that morning. There was no coffee left either, and as he shook the empty pot hoping for a miracle, he stared with disgust at the cold dregs congealing in his cup and wondered, not for the first time, why life hated him so much.

Rodney knew to get both essentials, he would need to brave the lion's den and visit the great voodoo chief Beckett, but apart from the fact he couldn't bear the thought of being prodded and stuck with big needles, he couldn't spare the time. He was so close. After all these weeks, the final clue to breaking the Trojan was within his grasp, but with the headache from hell he could barely concentrate, let alone see straight, still, he was loathed to call it a night. It was Ancient in design, but he still didn't know what it was intended to do, although there was something weird about the encryption, something he couldn't yet put his finger on. But at least now he was more confident the solution of the mystery would soon be revealed, or his name wasn't Doctor Rodney, Meredith, McKay.

The sound of footsteps behind him made him swing round so fast, his headache spiked and the resulting dizziness nearly sent him falling to the floor. When his vision cleared he found Ronon standing beside him, holding onto his arm.

"Enough, McKay. I'm taking you to see Beckett." Ronon said, looked concerned, in a tone that brooked no argument.

"Okay, okay…I'll go once I've finished." Rodney protested, but as he tried to back away from his grasp, he couldn't move, as Ronon was holding on tight.

"NOW!" Ronon grabbed the back of his shirt and propelled him out the door, only loosening his hold when the infirmary came in sight.

Inside, under the dimmed lights he could see the loan figure of Carson Beckett staring into his laptop. The physician so engrossed in the screen, he wasn't aware of their presence until they'd arrived by his desk.

"So you know then, you've heard the news?" Carson said, his voice dripping with concern as he addressed them both.

Puzzled, the team mates stared at each other, before turning to ask in unison "What news?"

"We've just received a message from Dave Sheppard. John wasn't at the airport when he went to collect him – Colonel Sheppard is missing."

ooooOoooo

TBC

Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please review.


	6. Chapter 6

Thanks for the reviews, and I'm glad you liked the little twist! Of course, that leaves two big questions - who has taken John, and where the hell is he?

THE TIES THAT BIND

CHAPTER 6

John yawned, stretched, and winced slightly at the residual ache lingering in his chest, but all in all, he felt pretty good.

He felt relaxed, something he hadn't been in a long time, and relished the unaccustomed luxury of lingering in the soft, warm bed. John knew that sounded weird, ironic even, given the length of time he'd spent in the infirmary. But the large waterbed in which he was lying, was definitely not military issue, and the infirmary's cribs were particularly narrow, plus their orthopedic mattresses were definitely not designed for a prolonged stay such as his had been.

Blindly, he reached out for his alarm, but it wasn't there. John glanced at the empty space on the table, then suddenly remembered he'd been so damned tired he'd fallen into bed. The truth was, soon after getting into the car he'd zonked out, the ride over a complete blur, and the next thing he knew he was standing, being supported by Janus on the driveway of the house. Still, what did it matter? He was on vacation and for the next three weeks, there would be no early runs with Ronon, no meetings to attend, and no off world missions to plan. Time was relative here, so with a wry smile, he threw the blanket over his head to block out the sunlight streaming into the room, and decided to take an extra five.

John could smell the tantalising aroma of coffee and guessed if this was home, he would have been on his second cup by now, snarking with McKay, and generally chewing the fat over breakfast with the rest of his team. It was hard to believe he'd only been away for a matter of days, as he missed them already, Atlantis too. The city so much a part of his life now, he felt almost unfaithful for having left her behind. John finally admitted he needed the break though. He was under par, well under, and if he was to continue to be able to do his job, it was imperative he get back to full fitness. It just wasn't on, not to mention embarrassing, to pass out like he did last night, too beat to make it into bed under his own steam.

Janus seemed like a nice guy, but he was almost a stranger and John didn't like having to accept help, especially from people he barely knew. Dave would be arriving today though, and he was looking forward to seeing him. He hoped this vacation would give them a chance to properly re-connect, as the last couple of times they'd met he'd been laid up, so it would be good to finally spend some quality time together outside of the infirmary.

John already owed him big time for getting the house ready for his arrival, as even shrouded in darkness, it still looked awesome. He already knew it was a rambling, single story property, but from the little he'd saw, John liked it. From what he could tell, the large picture windows would fill the house with light during the day, and he could just make out the long decked balcony jutting out from the side, where he looked forward to enjoying a drink before dinner, while watching the breakers crash onto the beach.

He'd paid the bills of course, but all the rest had been down to Dave. It was him who had pushed through the quick sale then hired a hot shot interior designer, although John wasn't impressed with the result. The bright, yellow walls not the plain white he'd envisioned, and the garish brown zigzag wall covering, definitely not his style. It did however match the pair of retro patchwork leather couches, and the seventies feel continued with the brightly coloured rugs strewn over the polished wooden floorboards. The only thing he liked – the old fashioned log fire. John preferred the real thing, as the warmth it generated filled the whole room, and was a genius touch, only too aware how quickly the temperature dropped at night when you lived beside an ocean.

Besides, it invoked memories of happier times when mom was alive and they'd sit beside the open fire. He and Dave used to joke around, as they drank their hot chocolate, while mom made toast on a long fork over the open fire. Loaded with butter, it had tasted wonderful, which reminded him he was hungry, as the meal on the plane had been hours ago, and now his stomach, was growling, demanding to be fed.

"Mr Sheppard…John. I've made coffee, would you like me to bring you a cup?"

John jumped when he heard Janus' voice, but when he peeked out from beneath the covers, he was relieved to find him standing on the other side of the door. "No…No thanks. Well I mean yes, I'd love coffee, but I'll come out and get it – just give me a few minutes."

In the daylight, while John fished about the floor searching for something to wear, he got a good look at his new _quarters_, for the first time. The room was painted plain white, which was a relief, with blue blankets instead of a duvet, to add a bit of colour, although the wrought iron head board was a bit too effeminate for his taste. Still, it wasn't a biggie, and he quickly decided that given the short amount of time he would visit, it would do just fine. His room was clean and better than most billets he's been in, besides given the short time Dave had been given to get the work done; John reckoned he'd done a good job.

That was until he hit the shower. John didn't mean to be ungrateful, but he was surprised Dave hadn't replaced the plumbing. It was really dated, especially compared to the high powered spray he was used to, and was the only thing he couldn't put up with. One thing was strange though – his dog tags were missing. John rarely if ever took them off, but given the condition he'd been in last night they could be lying around the room, or maybe Janus had found them. Either way, he was sure they would turn up – they couldn't be far away.

Now he was one of the great washed, John felt refreshed and was eager to see round the rest of his new digs, first though, he needed a change of clothes, and his case appeared to have gone AWOL. John searched all over, but couldn't see it anywhere, so reckoned it was still in the car. There was a small built in wardrobe, and he was surprised to find it still contained clothing from the last inhabitant. From what he could guess, the guy had been the same build and size as him, but had obviously been a seventies nut, so John decided it would have to be the soiled clothes he arrived in, that, or look like an extra from Starsky & Hutch.

From the window the view was awesome. John didn't think anywhere compared to Atlantis, but this place came pretty damn close. The sun was dazzling from a deep, blue sky devoid of any cloud, and the golden sand shimmered as the waves broke onto the shore. He wanted to get out there. Grab a board and catch the next wave, but while his heart said yes, his body said no – for now. John was desperate to surf, but knew he wasn't up it, at least not yet, but once he felt a little stronger, nothing was going to stop him.

The happy thought brought a smile to his lips, as John stepped out the room in search of the kitchen to snag some breakfast. Janus was standing by the aga and looked round when he came in, but the smile from yesterday was missing, as he turned to give the eggs he was cooking his full attention.

"Morning, Janus. Thanks for the assist last night, but have you seen my case? I'd like a change of clothes; these are getting a bit rank." John asked, lifting the edge of his linen shirt in disgust.

"I'll take a look later. Please, help yourself to coffee, and how would you like your eggs?" Janus spoke, without turning round.

John strolled over and poured a mug, then sat down at the breakfast bar. He noticed with dismay the retro theme seemed to extend to the full house. "Over easy thanks. By the way, Janus, when is my brother arriving? Oh, and have you seen the chain I was wearing? I don't remember taking it off, and I can't find it anywhere..."

"Do you mean this?"

Hot coffee scalded his hand as John dropped the mug, and he turned in shock to face the familiar voice, and immediately recognised the man who was standing there, smiling, swinging his dog tags side to side.

"Forant! What the hell are you doing here? And where's Dave? You better not have hurt him -" John threatened as he jumped off the chair, but as he moved forward felt himself restrained from behind.

"Calm down, John – Dave is fine." Forant turned to Janus. "Take my grandson to the sink and get some cold water on that burn, would you?"

John tried to pull away from Janus' grasp, but either he was weaker than he thought, or the guy was packing muscles he couldn't see, but in either case John soon realised he had no choice but to submit to his ministrations.

"You still haven't answered my first question, Forant. What the hell are you doing here?" He demanded "I thought you never wanted to see me again, in fact, you tried to make sure of it." John was a seething mass of rage and confusion, wondering why Forant had sought him out, especially considering the last time they'd met the Ancient had drugged him with a compound which nearly made him take his own life.

Forant pulled out a seat at the large Formica kitchen table, then leaned back in the chair. "And you don't know how much I regret my behavior that day. I'm truly sorry, John." He replied. "That being said, you do realise if I'd really wanted you dead, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

John felt his hand, now numb with cold, removed from under the tap, wrapped in a cloth then himself pushed none too gently into the seat opposite. "So you poisoned me, for what - the fun of it? Explain it to me would you, _grandpa,_ 'cause I'm confused. Did you intend to kill me, or not?"

From all appearances, Forant looked uncomfortable, embarrassed even, as he went silent for a moment.

"I was angry with you, John, furious. It's no secret that I'm a man who's always been used to getting what I want, but when you unleashed that tirade, well, let's just say no one has ever spoken to me in that manner before."

John watched as the cocky expression vanished, and Forant seemed almost unsure of himself. "Afterwards, when I realised all of my elaborate plans, my years of searching for you had brought me to a young man who despised me…I am ashamed to admit, that for a short while, I did want you dead." Forant confessed. "However, it didn't take me long to realise what I'd done to my own blood, and I was horrified at the person I'd become. You were right, John, I am a monster. Centuries of living on my own, following my own desires, my obsessions has changed me, but I truly believe it was never my intention to end your life."

"Wha – That shit you drugged me with made me want to kill myself." John yelled, and made to rise, but Janus slammed him back on the seat. John winced, and cussed under his breath, as the sharp movement re-awakened all of his aches.

"Janus! Stop that at once – John is my grandson." Forant shouted, his face contorted with anger, then turned to John. "I'm sorry, John, Janus is loyal, but sometimes he forgets his own strength. Anyway, as I was saying, while I deeply regret what I did, the fact remains if I'd really wanted to end your life, there were more lethal drugs at my disposal, any of which would have killed you on the spot. The one I choose, while its intent was deadly, gave your team an opportunity to find and save you, which deep down I guessed was ultimately my plan."

His head was pounding, and John was struggling to make sense of it all, but he realised as Forant had justified his own actions - at least to himself – that was as much of an apology as he was likely to get.

"Fine, if you say so. Now, what do you want?" John asked, already feeling nervous about the answer.

"I would like to try and win your trust." Forant stated, in an expressionless tone. "The last time we met, I should have anticipated your hostile reception. You didn't know me, and had no idea about the kind of life I'd led, or why I felt compelled to do those terrible things. Except patience has never been my strong point, or it wasn't until I realised what I'd nearly lost." Forant sighed, and raked a careless hand through his hair. "I realise you must hate me, but I would like to make it up to you. Before you came into my life I was content to be on my own, but now, I have you - my grandson and I would like for us to get to know each other better. Please, John, give me a chance, If for no other reason than I am the last living Ancient, who would like to leave some kind of legacy to you, and your people."

There was silence, except for the sound of the waves as they crashed onto the beach. It was such a calming noise, but John was in turmoil as he didn't know what to make of Forant's impassioned speech. One thing was for sure, whatever he decided about their future relationship, right now, he wanted him to leave.

John tore his eyes off Forant and stared out the window. He felt exhausted, and after rising with such high hopes for the day, he now felt like crap, and just wanted to head back to bed. "Well, you've certainly given me a lot to think about, but I'll need time to consider your offer. Once my brother has gone back home, and before my friends arrive, would be the best time for us to resume this conversation, in the meantime, I would like you both to leave my house."

Forant expression turned cynical. "You would agree to that, John, after what I did?"

"I just said I would, so now would you give me a break? I'd like to get something to eat, and change into some clean clothes before my brother arrives." As Janus had backed off, John rose from the table to press the point home.

"Oh, dear. I have to say I didn't expect you to be so reasonable." Forant said, sounding slightly amused.

Then suddenly, as if a veil was lifted, John looked around properly for the first time, and a horrible thought struck him as the pieces began to fall into place. "What have you done? Where's Dave…where's my brother?"

Forant smiled at him, as he folded his arms across his chest. "Right now, I would think he'll be in school. This is 1975, John, and in this time line you are only eight years old."

ooooOoooo

TBC

Well, I hope you enjoyed the surprise, and please review.


	7. Chapter 7

Thanks for the reviews, and again I'm sorry that I can't answer reviews posted under the 'anonymous' banner, as the site doesn't allow it.

By the way, this isn't a kid fic - and I don't intend writing any either, as I like my Sheppard all grown up! Thanks again to my beta Sherry 57, but any mistakes are mine.

So...John's in 1975, but what's happening in 2011?

THE TIES THAT BIND

CHAPTER 7

"Put your head down, son. That's it. Now just take slow, deep breaths." Dave heard Carson's brogue as if through a haze, but did as he was told and slowly felt his heart rate begin to settle, and the black spots dancing in front of his eyes vanish, as the hard wood floor once again came into view.

The last time he'd felt this way was in second grade after Garth Miller stood on a nail, the resulting blood spilling everywhere. Dave had actually passed out then, but at least this time he was spared the indignity of falling in a heap, but only because Ronon was near by and had caught him in the nick of time. He couldn't believe, and didn't want to accept that some one had abducted John, but the evidence was there in front of him. John's suitcase, unopened, but separated from its owner, and Dave couldn't help thinking it was all his fault.

He had only been slightly late – no more than ten minutes, but when he'd arrived at the airport, John was already gone. The pretty flight attendant had remembered seeing him chatting to a man then getting into a black SUV, but thought nothing of it. So he'd headed back to the house but when John wasn't there, a trawl through the cab companies revealed the first sign something was off, as it soon became clear John hadn't used a hire. Dave had waited a little longer, just in case he'd snagged a ride instead, but when John still hadn't showed after an hour, he knew instinctively, that his little brother was in trouble.

Dave's first instinct had been to call the cops, but given John's job and the security implications involved, he'd contacted Carson instead. Within hours the house was swarming with security personnel from the SGC, shortly followed by John's team. Earlier that morning, when the wrecked remains of the vehicle was found at the bottom of a cliff, his heart skipped a beat. He'd managed to hold it together though, and thought he was coping pretty well, right up until McKay brought in John's dented suitcase…

At the click of the lock, he slowly raised his head to see McKay poking around inside.

"I don't think anything's missing." Rodney announced. "Mr 'Neat' has everything packed in military precision, and his Kindle is just where I saw him put it the night before he left. His laptop is there too, so I think that pretty much rules out robbery." McKay sat back on his heels, giving a small grunt as he rose to his feet and took the computer over to a chair. "The case is cracked, but I'll see if I can retrieve any data. If I can even get access to his email, something there might give us a clue."

Dave was aware of a cold glass pressed into his hand, just as the warm sure grasp on his other wrist was removed. "Feeling better?" Carson asked and Dave nodded. "Well, your pulse is getting back to normal, but I want you to stay where you are for a wee bit longer, and take small sips of water – you've had quite a shock."

"This is my fault." Dave mumbled sadly, as his voice trailed away. "If I'd just checked the tank before I left, I wouldn't have run out of gas…"

Rodney's head popped up from behind the laptop. "When did you last fill up?" He asked.

Teyla tutted and drew him a look. "Rodney – It was an easy mistake to make, and I'm sure Dave didn't mean for it to happen."

Undaunted, Rodney, ignored Teyla and pressed the issue. "Seriously, Dave, when did you fill up, and how much gas did you get? It's important."

Dave could see his hand trembling_ get a grip man, _and made a conscious effort to remember.

"It's a rental I picked up at the airport a couple of days ago. I wanted to arrive on the island before John to make sure the work had been finished, and to stock up the kitchen." Dave said, then as his head started to clear, something dawned on him. "I'm not sure, but I think it came with a full tank – let me check the paperwork."

Dave went to rise, but Carson put a firm hand on his shoulder. "You stay were you are, lad. Tell Ronon where it is, and he can find it."

"I'm fine, Carson…" Dave protested, but Ronon was already on his feet awaiting instructions. "Thanks, Ronon. I think you'll find it in the top drawer of the credenza."

Some shuffling and a few seconds later, Ronon returned and handed the yellow slip of paper over to the scientist. Rodney quickly scanned the contents and looked up, his face drained of colour. "It was a full tank, at least that's what you paid for. So unless you've done the whole sightseeing thing since you've arrived, I think someone has siphoned your tank."

"You mean…"

"Whoever took Sheppard didn't leave anything to chance. They made sure you wouldn't show up on time, so there wasn't a damn thing you could have done to prevent this from happening." Rodney told him, but Dave's small relief was short lived, as the fact remained that his brother was still missing.

"So who's got him?" Ronon grunted, as he stood with his arms folded, looking ready to start the hunt at any minute.

Rodney answered distractedly, his frustration evident as he squinted at the laptop, banging hard on the keys. "Dunno. The only fingerprints in the car were Sheppard's, but on the plus side, at least there was no blood. There was a half empty bottle of water that was laced with a sedative, so it doesn't take my genius to guess that's how they got him…Oh wait a minute - cool! I've managed to get the email online."

Everyone looked tense while he worked, but then a few minutes later he peered up, disappointed. "There's nothing here that will help. The last email he got was from me – it was a chess move, and John hasn't sent any messages since the one to tell Dave when his flight was arriving. "

"Could someone have kidnapped him for his money?" Dave asked, and was surprised when everyone turned to stare at him. "John's a millionaire – didn't you know?" At the stunned silence, he continued. "Dad left him a ten percent share of the company. He didn't want it, and I know he gave most of it to charity, but there's still a sizable chunk left. It was him that bought this house, not me."

"Well, John is certainly a private man, and I am sure he would not welcome his affairs being made public, Dave." Teyla scolded, but her tone was gentle, to take the sting out the rebuke.

Dave sat back on the chair and folded his arms. "And I wouldn't have, Teyla, but it occurred to me it could be a reason to kidnap him."

"He's right." Rodney said, "So now we have one more motive to add to the list. Along with the Trust, and anyone else who Sheppard has pissed off – that's a huge list on its own, but there is a chance it might be to do with you too, Dave." McKay informed him.

"What are you getting at, Rodney?" Dave asked, feeling his hackles rise.

"Well, let's put it this way, I'm sure you didn't get to be a successful business man without stepping on a few toes." Rodney said, in a matter of fact tone.

"Excuse me, are you implying I'm corrupt, Doctor McKay?" But as he felt himself go scarlet with rage, Dave felt Carson's hand back on his shoulder.

"Calm down, son." Carson stood between the two men and put his hands up. "What Rodney is trying to say, badly, may I add, is that perhaps a disgruntled competitor may have kidnapped John to get back at you."

Rodney flushed, and looked embarrassed. "Um…I didn't mean. Look, I'm sorry. Carson's right, I just figured someone, or maybe a few someone's might not be too happy at your success."He said. "In any case, if you would let us have a list of anyone who you think may have an axe to grind, then we'll add it to the list of suspects. In the meantime, I'll set up surveillance to trace any calls you receive, just in case there is a ransom demand."

"Thanks, Rodney…and I'm sorry for the misunderstanding." Now it was Dave's turn to feel awkward.

After a few uneasy moments Teyla got up and started roaming around the room. "This is a truly beautiful house, Dave, and I'm sure John will love it." Teyla smiled, and as her eyes flitted about, he could see her take in the pale cream walls, the black, leather sofas and the dark grey patterned rug lying in front of the unlit log fire.

"If he ever gets to see it…"

Teyla stopped in her tracks and turned to give him an intense look. "And he will, Dave, I promise. John is our friend and we won't rest until we find him, and bring him safely home."

ooooOoooo

Normally, the ocean had a calming effect on him, but right now the idyllic view only served to mock, as it reminded him of Atlantis, his home. It was hard to believe that in this decade, the Ancient city was still a myth, and would remain undiscovered at the bottom of the sea for over another thirty years. John couldn't get his head round it, and was struggling to get a handle on the concept that Dave could be sitting on the same stretch of beach, at the same moment, but separated by the passage of time.

John didn't want to believe it, but the beachcombers drifting past in their outrageous clothes gave credence to another decade, as did his house, so he couldn't deny the ugly truth. Besides, if Forant had been lying Dave would be with him, enjoying a cold one stretched out on the balcony. He hated knowing his brother would be frantic with worry, but if he was honest, John was more than a little concerned himself, as for the first time, in a long time, he hadn't got a clue what to do.

When Forant had told him it was 1975, he'd been too stunned to speak so had just stared at the bastard then stormed out the house and onto the beach. John didn't know where he was going, didn't care, he'd just wanted out of his sight, but was surprised when no one followed. Then he realised - why should they? He had no relevant documents, or currency, so where was he going to go?

Any faint hope that it was all one sick joke, had been quickly dispelled when he reached the strip. Up until then, John wondered if the house had been staged, and he wouldn't have put it past Forant to have paid a few extra's to roam about the beach, but there were way too many people dressed in similar gear, plus the cars driving past were classic. There was now no doubt in his mind, he was stuck in the freaking seventies, right down to the flares hanging in the closet.

Exhausted, his legs trembling, John fell to his knees unable to walk another step. People were staring, looking at his hair and his _weird_ clothes, but he didn't care, there was no where to go, nothing he could do. All of his friends, the people who could help were living their lives over thirty years in the future, while he was a man out of options, out of hope and out of time.

"Where did you think you were going to go, John?" Forant asked, as he sank down on the sand beside him.

John heard the voice, but didn't move, choosing to ignore the man who had ruined his life.

"I'm sorry, John, but despite what you said in the house, be honest. We both know neither of us truly believes you would ever have initiated contact with me." Forant pointed out. "However, I hope that given a little time, we will learn to become friends, or at the very least you will come to respect me, and understand your sacrifice is for the greater good, because together, we will make the galaxy a safer place."

John didn't really want to talk to the bastard, but among all the questions he had, this one was nagging him. "Of all the places you could have taken me, why did you bring me here? And why 1975 for fucks sake?"

"Watch your language, John. I understand you're annoyed, but I will not tolerate bad manners or behaviour, even from you." Forant scolded, but then his voice lost the sharp edge as he answered. "Hawaii is the perfect place for a vacation, and this is what we are having, John, to allow you to recover while we get to know each another better. Besides, we could hardly stay in 2011 could we? In any case the seventies were a favourite era of mine." He smiled. "Now, you need to rest, regain your strength and become well again, so please, let me help you – my car is parked nearby."

"You have a car?" John smirked, and gave him a cynical look. "What the hell does a time traveller need with conventional transport?

Forant grabbed some sand in his hand, and let it sift through his fingers. "To fit in. Also I enjoy driving, especially in a climate like this when I can cruise by with the top down."

"Regardless of what you want, Forant, don't you think it's a little late to play happy families?" John glared at him, and didn't wait for an answer before he continued. "In any case, I could never be the man you want me to be, so take me back now, and it will save us both a lot of trouble in the long run."

Forant gave him a wry smile. "I'm a patient man, John, and I never expected this to be an easy transition. My hope is that one day you will accept your new life, perhaps even enjoy it, and when that day comes, you will be able to visit your friends at any time you want. In the meantime, as your grandfather I must be the judge of what is best for you, so for now you will come back to the house, as I can see you're unwell."

John shook his head and drew him a cynical look. "I'm _touched _you care…tell me one thing – is that actually my house?"

"Well…technically, at the moment it's mine." Forant informed him, then went on to explain. "Your father began building it when your mother, my daughter, became ill. I believe it was his hope it would help her to recover knowing she would once again have a home in the place of her birth. Unfortunately, she died without ever seeing it, and I persuaded Patrick to sell it to me."

"You went back in time to engineer all this? John rounded on Forant, astonished.

"I told you I'm a patient man, John." Forant said. "In the original time line, your father was grief stricken, so upset, he allowed the property to fall into disrepair. One short journey through time, and a _chance _meeting later, well, suffice to say, I persuaded him to part with it. The provision to sell it back was of course pure fiction, an easy thing for a man of my skills to arrange, as everything is within my grasp - something you would do well to realise now."

John leaned back with his elbows in the sand. "I'm curious? Why did you think I'd bite?"

"Reseach." Forant said. "After we met, I decided to learn more about you. I know you love the beach, and to surf, so when I found out Doctor Beckett intended making you take a vacation, this house, in this place, ticked all the boxes. I'll admit that to a certain degree, I also relied on the persuasive powers of your brother – he really does care about you, John."

The realisation that Forant had used both his dad and Dave made him angry, but John knew he couldn't afford to lose his temper, at least not yet.

"I suppose I should feel flattered you went to all this trouble to get me." John smirked.

Forant extended his hand to help him. "Yes, you should. Now it's time to get back as Janus will have lunch ready."

John drew him a dirty look, and had a mind to stay just where he was. Besides, his legs felt like jelly, and he really didn't know if he could move right now.

Then Forant's expression hardened. "Don't be foolish and take my hand, John. I understand you're angry, and perhaps you have a right to be, but I can tell you now that I won't allow your stupid pride to undermine your health."

John unwillingly took his hand, but stumbled as he tried to rise, and hated the fact it was only Forant's strong grasp keeping him upright. The very touch of the serial killer repulsed him, and the thought he would be forced to spend time with the man made his stomach heave. Right now though there was no escape, besides where would he go? One thing was for sure, his revenge would have to wait until he was both stronger, and learned what Forant's game plan was...

oooOoooo

TBC

Hope you enjoyed that, and please let me know what you think.


	8. Chapter 8

Thanks to those who took the time to review, and those still following the story.

THE TIES THAT BIND

CHAPTER 8

It was getting late and there was work to be done, but Brantum Forant waited patiently out of sight until he heard John moaning softy in his sleep.

Even in the darkened room he could see the steady rise and fall of his chest, but waited for a few minutes more before withdrawing the syringe nestling in his pocket, and sliding the needle swiftly into the crook of his arm. He stiffened as John flinched, then turned on his side, but relaxed when the sleeping man didn't awake. Brantum knew the sedative would knock him out for hours, but also hoped the additional compound he'd added would help his stubborn grandson regain his strength.

Gently, he pulled the cover over the exposed shoulders, and suppressed a notion to ruffle the tousled head. The hair almost as defiant as the man himself, who had eaten little and said less since he'd arrived nearly a week ago, refusing all his offers to give him something to build up his strength. In the beginning he hadn't wanted to force the issue, hoping the long leisurely days in the sun would aid his recovery. Instead John seemed to be getting weaker every day, and the deepening dark circles under his eyes, were visible, even under the light golden tan. Brantum was worried, and wasn't prepared to wait any longer, so it was time for an intervention whether John liked it or not.

Brantum had expected John's anger at being abducted not only from his home, but also his time. Still, he was trying to be tolerant, and give him a chance to come to terms with his situation. John's continued resentment was becoming tiresome though, and now it was starting to dawn on him how naïve he'd been to expect more interaction between them. His grandson, just like a petulant child, had scarcely acknowledged his presence. Please and thank you, barely the only words to leave his lips, as John avoided him like the plague and had only grudgingly shared the same space during his enforced mealtimes.

John's resistance was determined and unyielding. His refusal to don the clothes he'd been given particularly pointed by choosing instead to launder his own. His only reluctant concession, the trunks he wore to the beach. It was obvious he was embarrassed by the brief black Speedos that clung to his form like a second skin. His love for the ocean had won out though, and Brantum felt a pang of pride when he saw the admiration that the taut, defined muscles attracted, as John waded, glistening with water, out of the sea.

Brantum had enjoyed the company of many beauties over the years, and still did. However, unlike him, his grandson was a modest man, who seemed to be unaware of the effect he had on the female sex. He was amused at the increase of beautiful beachcombers who had started passing, John's handsome features and toned body attracting a lot of attention, despite being a little too thin. The man himself though was oblivious to his new entourage, as he sat on the sand staring out into the horizon.

He was aware it would have been easier to use force to make John more compliant, but Brantum wanted a willing partner by his side. It would also have been less problematic to choose a _different_ John, from an earlier time, but it was the military leader of Atlantis who was essential to his plans. Brantum needed that man, the person whose trials, tribulations and worldly experience made him who he was. In short, it was the irascible, obstinate but ultimately admirable Lt Colonel John Sheppard who he sought to come on board with what he was hoping to achieve.

Brantum nodded to Janus as he walked past, knowing he was leaving his precious cargo in good hands. He knew John wouldn't stir until well into the morning, and hoped the deep sleep would aid his recovery, but the heavy sedation would serve a dual purpose, as it would also keep him unaware of his absence until he'd returned from the lab.

Despite John's reluctance to converse, his project was one subject he didn't want to discuss until he was ready, so for the moment it was better to keep his absences secret until the time was right. Brantum did feel an unaccustomed pang of remorse at the unhappiness he'd caused his offspring. Not usually a sentimental man, he liked John, and was fond of him even, so he decided to make a couple of detours after he'd finished work.

It was getting colder, and the welcome sea breeze which had relieved the heat during the day was now making him shiver as the temperature swiftly dropped. He pulled his jacket close against his body, trying to get some warmth, his aching joints reminding him of his advancing years. After he'd left Atlantis, the serum he'd made from John's blood had strengthened his body, but regrettably had only trimmed a few years from his appearance. It had been better than nothing though, and while he was aware he couldn't compete with his handsome off spring, Brantum still considered himself to be a fine looking man.

At the end of garden he stopped, took a sharp left into a small coppiced wood, and listened for possible intruders before removing the cloak. The gate ship sprang into life at his presence, and as he assumed the controls, he felt the familiar thrill as the power thrummed under his fingertips. About to set his destination, Brantum stopped. The lab could wait for a little longer, but John couldn't, so some shopping was required before anything else. He set the date and time, and within minutes he arrived just off Saville Row. No one paid any attention to the distinguished man who stepped out of the Mini, and he smiled at his own genius that had developed the technology which allowed this kind of deception. Brantum loved London, especially in the spring and looked forward to the pleasurable task ahead. It had been a while since he'd bought a new suit, too long, and although he preferred to have his tailoring bespoke, in this instance, off the rack would have to do. In any case, he didn't expect John would mind.

ooooOoooo

There were no leads, no clues as to who had taken Sheppard, and Richard was struggling to know where to go from here.

He was frustrated sitting on the sidelines while General Landry ran the investigation from the SGC, but given that the abduction had taken place on Earth, he didn't have a choice. Richard was reassured however, that despite Landry's personal opinion of his Military CO, the man was pulling out all the stops. Yet despite all the resources of Stargate Command, and the best forensic team on Earth working around the clock, he was saddened to learn no further evidence had been obtained.

From the latest Intel he'd received it was clear they were no further forward despite the wrecked car having being completely taken apart. Richard wasn't surprised to learn that the vehicle had of course, been stolen, but did wonder why the identity checks carried out on all recent visitors hadn't produced any suspects. He was puzzled, as surely some one on the Island was responsible, or at least knew something, but even their insider within the Trust hadn't been aware of any abduction plans. One thing was certain, John Sheppard wasn't on the Island now. There was no trace of his subcutaneous transmitter, but as there was no body either, this at least gave him some hope John was still alive.

"Doctor McKay's IDC – Raise the shield."

At the sound of Chuck's voice, Richard hurried to the balcony just in time to see the arrival of the brilliant scientist, quickly followed by Teyla Emmagan as they appeared through the glimmering blue event horizon. McKay's expression was grim as he looked up and caught his gaze, and without a word being said, both personnel quickly made their way up to join him in his office.

Richard couldn't help but notice that McKay slumped rather than sat on the chair, his dejection mirrored by his team mate Teyla, who was uncharacteristically tense, and her normally serene expression, bereft.

"What have you to report, Doctor?" He asked, as he lounged back on the chair, clasping his hands in front of him on the desk.

The question hung in the air for a few moments, then Rodney dragged his eyes off the floor, appearing surprised to find Richard and Teyla staring at him. "What? Oh, sorry - I must have zoned out for a minute."

"There's no hurry, Doctor. I know this has been a very difficult time for all of you." Richard responded, trying to reassure, as it appeared the man was completely exhausted.

"Yes…well…as I'm sure General Landry told you we haven't been able to find any leads. We checked the list Dave gave us, and most of the people on it didn't even know he had a brother," Rodney looked sad, "in any case, everyone on it had solid alibis. Money doesn't appear to have been a motive either, as there haven't been any ransom demands and I reckon if that was going to happen, we would have received one by now." Rodney paused, his face wearing a wry humorless smile. "Even the list we compiled of Sheppard's enemies didn't produce any suspects. Of course we could hardly interview Colonel Caldwell, could we?"

"Rodney -" Teyla shook her head, giving him a reproachful look, "I know the Colonel may not be fond of John, but you can't deny he has been most helpful." She pointed out.

Rodney expression turned cynical. "Sure, he took the Daedalus for a spin around the globe – big deal."

Richard perked up, "Did he find any trace of the Colonel?"

"_Hello - _didn't I just say there were no leads?" Rodney blurted out, then his face went scarlet. "I'm sorry… you were right before, it has been a rough few days. But in answer to your question – no, Caldwell wasn't able to detect Sheppard's transmitter. Therefore either it's been damaged, or the bad guys have removed it."

"I see." And Richard did. He was already struggling to quell the despondent air pervading Atlantis, and now his job was going to be much more difficult. With no good news to convey, moral would plummet further, as the base personnel were already upset and confused, as to why someone on Earth would want to abduct their well liked military commander.

With all other options explored, Richard really didn't want to believe the only other possibility left. "Could it have been an inside job?"

Teyla and Rodney looked at each other, but their lack of shock told him they were wondering the same thing. "I've already asked Radek to start checking all transmissions both in and out the base for the last six months." Rodney responded. "In fact, Mr Woolsey, if we're done here, I'd like to go and help him."

"Certainly, Doctor McKay, and please keep me updated." Richard answered, then stalled the two team mates as they went to leave. "When are Ronon and Doctor Beckett returning?"

Teyla answered this time. "Ronon is returning later this morning, and Doctor Beckett," Teyla's face fell, "is staying a little longer to give Dave Sheppard some moral support, but…"

"The truth is, Mr Woolsey, that the idiot feels responsible for Sheppard's abduction." Rodney interrupted, his worry clearly evident through his irritable tone.

"But why?" Richard asked, puzzled. "I read the medical report, and Doctor Beckett was right. If Colonel Sheppard had stayed on base, he would have soon found out about the Trojan and would have become involved, off duty or not."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "You know that, and so do I. We all do, even Beckett if he was thinking straight. Right now though, he just wants to beat himself up as he thinks it was him who sent Sheppard into the arms of his abductor."

Richard sighed, and rubbed his hand over his forehead in a vain attempt to rid himself of the headache which had started that morning. "Leave it with me, Doctor McKay, Teyla. If he's not back soon, I'll have him recalled so that we can have a little chat."

Rodney nodded, and Teyla gave him a tired smile before leaving him alone to try and absorb everything he'd just learned. It was a hellish situation, with seemingly no end in sight, but one thing he did know, none of it was Beckett's fault. As a diplomat Richard was aware that someone always wanted to apportion blame, and he prayed the culprits would be found soon, but it was an inescapable fact that in John Sheppard's case the man just seemed to attract trouble where ever he went.

ooooOoooo

His body was shaking, burning up – he couldn't breathe.

John felt himself swelling up, his lips tingling and his skin getting tighter with every second. He was in trouble, and threw out a trembling hand for his radio, but collided with a glass instead. At the resulting crash as it splintered on the floor, his eyes flew open and with a sinking heart remembered where he was.

He soon realised that he couldn't speak either, only a low gurgling sound coming from his voice as he tried to call for help. His throat was aching, but worse, it was closing up, leaving him struggling for air, gasping for each laboured breath. John remembered having watched McKay in a similar fix many times before, and after the way Rodney had described it, he was pretty sure he was suffering from anaphylactic shock. What the hell had caused it, he didn't have a clue. The pills Carson had given him, were missing along with his suitcase, so he'd hadn't taken any meds for days. Right now though it didn't matter, nothing did, as John knew if he didn't get help soon, it would be irrelevant where he was, or what year – he would soon be dead.

Black spots were dancing in front of his vision, and his muscles felt like lead, but with a massive effort, John threw himself on the floor. He could see the door straight ahead, it was tantalisingly close, but as he tried to crawl his feeble arms wouldn't support his weight, and he fell flat on his face. Sprawled on the ground, all he could do was lie there, as his useless limbs soon became numb and he couldn't move. Tears of frustration, regret and self pity trickled down his face as reality sunk in. He was going to die there, a pointless death, far from his home, without even having the comfort of friends by his side – it wasn't fair.

The door flung open, and John was startled by the blinding light, as Janus rushed to his side. It seemed like forever, as the man just knelt there, shouting at him, searching his face for answers John wasn't able to give. He could tell Janus was panicking, and by the indecision written on his face, John knew he didn't have a clue what to do.

John was fighting for his life, struggling for every shallow breath, but through a void was dimly aware as Janus scrambled to his feet and ran to the window. Even to his foggy brain, it was clear he was searching for Forant, because John knew if his grandfather was around, he would have been there by now. It was one of life's contradictions and John hated to admit it, but he needed him, they both did. But as the light dimmed, nothing mattered as the darkness closed in...

ooooOoooo

TBC

I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please let me know what you thought. Your feedback is very important to me, as I like to know the sort of story, that you the reader enjoys, but in addition, it's your support that gives me the encouragement I need to keep writing.

I know that this weekend is a holiday for many of us, but regardless of what faith you follow, I hope you have a healthy, happy weekend with your loved ones - Joanie

P.S. The next post will be on Monday.


	9. Chapter 9

I hope you had a good weekend, and thanks for the reviews and alerts - they are much appreciated! Again, I'm sorry that I can't reply to those send under the anonymous banner, as the site doesn't give me the facility to reply.

Anyway, we left John in a sorry state, so how is our Lt Colonel?

THE TIES THAT BIND

CHAPTER 9

He loved it when a plan came together, and so far Brantum was happy everything was falling into place at the right time.

John of course was the one loose cannon, the only element he hadn't – so far - been able to control, but hopefully, his reticent grandson would start to come round once he began to feel better. Besides, how could he not, after seeing the results of his shopping spree? Brantum broke into a smile, at the delicious thought of finally having a fruitful working relationship alongside his own offspring.

Surrounded by brightly colored bags, he took a moment to admire his new suit in the cheval mirror. It had been expensive, but he was all too aware that the best things in life usually were. The fine, pale olive cashmere clung to him like a second skin, and even the fetching young lady who had sold it, said it complimented his eyes. She was quite lovely, and someone he would have liked to have spent some time with, but _time_ in this instance was the operative word, as while the gate ship could keep going back and forth forever, his energy was unfortunately not boundless.

Brantum gave his comfortable quarters a last wistful look, then gathering his purchases together, made his way out the craft. The truth was, that despite the attractions of Hawaii, he missed living in his ship. It was linked to every technological device imaginable, and had all the amenities a man could ever want, including a low tech, but enjoyable full size pool table. Regrettably though, Janus wasn't much of an opponent. So in some ways he could sympathise with John, as he too liked to be surrounded by his own things, but the young man would soon learn that unfortunately some sacrifice was necessary for the greater good.

Weighed down by his parcels, he nearly didn't see the car roll into the driveway until he was almost upon it. Janus jumped out, but before he could speak, Brantum interrupted.

"Where have you been? I thought my instructions were clear, Janus, you had no right gadding about, leaving my grandson on his own."

"But I didn't, Father…" Janus stuttered, as Forant shut him down again.

"And how many times have I told you not to call me that?" Brantum retorted, unhappy with the intimacy of the greeting, but he was more angry at his instructions having been disobeyed.

Janus moved forward and for the first time Brantum noticed the look of panic on his face. "What's wrong? It's John, isn't it? What have you done to my grandson?"

"Nothing…I've done nothing." Janus protested, putting out his arms to fend off the older man. Then he explained. "Shortly after you left, I heard a noise from his room, but when I went inside he was lying on the floor struggling to breathe."

Brantum felt the blood drain from his face, and was barely aware of dropping the packages, spilling them onto the ground. "I must go to him…" But Janus grabbed his arm as he made to blindly rush inside.

Then Janus' expression turned grave. "John's in the hospital. With you gone, Master, I didn't have a choice." He said sounding nervous. "It was either call for an ambulance or let him die."

"Is he…"

"He's alive, but it was a close thing. It was some sort of allergic reaction they think." Janus responded, and Brantum felt the last vestige of rage seep from his body leaving him drained, as he sunk onto the step. "They had to perform an emergency tracheotomy, so right now, he's on a ventilator." Janus said. "But the doctor said they hope to remove it sometime tomorrow once the swelling goes down." Janus informed him, and Brantum groaned, knowing this wrinkle to the plans was all his fault.

He was aware that something in the compound must have caused this, and was angry at himself for not checking John's medical records before giving him something that had obviously caused such a violent reaction. Brantum realised he had made the classic, rookie mistake of believing John shared identical blood work to him. He didn't of course, because while they had the same blood group, as his grandson was only part Ancient, regrettably, he would never enjoy the same robust genetics of his kinsmen. In this instance, Brantum knew he would have to swallow his pride, and defer to the notes made by John's physician, Doctor Beckett, as he had been the one to care for John through his illness, and had no doubt arranged suitable medication to aid his ultimate recovery.

Then something dawned on him, and his head shot up to make eye contact with the other man. "You didn't bring them here did you? Please don't tell me you brought strangers into this house!" Brantum grew angry again at the thought this episode could leave a trace of John's appearance in this time line.

"No…"Janus answered. "I made the call as a concerned by-stander, then left him lying at the side of the road in a quiet area just off the strip. I waited until he was safely in the ambulance, then later, went down to the hospital to ask how he was."

Brantum scrubbed a shaking hand through his coarse grey hair, upset at the thought of his grandson being dumped like a piece of unwanted garbage, waiting for collection. "Well we can't just leave him there," he said.

"Why not, fath…I mean, Master? He can't speak and is being well looked after, in any case, John doesn't know anyone here. Or correction, I should say those people he does know, his friends, are only children in this decade." Janus reasoned.

Brantum could hear his bones creak as he struggled to his feet. "I'm well aware of that, Janus. However I would rather keep him away from strangers just in case of repercussions. Gather all our belongings together and pack up the house - I don't want any trace that we were ever here." He instructed. "Oh, and when you're finished I have an errand I want you to run."

ooooOoooo

His first sensation was the familiar hard plastic covering his face, but the cool air flowing through the mask was welcome, as he no longer struggled to breathe. The second, was the pain in his throat. It felt raw, despite the presence of good drugs in his system. Regardless, John still felt like crap and pretty much ached all over from the top of his throbbing head, to the tight spasms ripping through his chest.

Still, considering that he'd expected to wake up dead, finding himself alive was a pleasant surprise. John cracked open an eye and knew immediately where he was – in hospital. The lingering smell of antiseptic and sterile white walls was unmistakable, but how he got here, and why Forant had relinquished control, he hadn't a clue.

"Hi! It's nice to see you finally awake, that was quite a scare you gave us."

John opened his eyes wider and saw a pretty, dark haired doctor smiling down at him. Though when he opened his mouth to speak, a sharp pain speared through his neck, and he grimaced, gripping onto the sheets, as he tried not to pass out.

A soft hand took his and held it tight, as he rode out the pain until it gradually started to ease, and he felt more in control. "Don't try to talk. It was necessary to carry out an emergency tracheotomy to open your airways, but although the tube is out now, it will still be a few more days until you'll be able to speak." She said, then introduced herself. "My name is Doctor Willis, but I don't know yours, so would you care to tell me?" John felt a pen pressed gently into his hand, and was vaguely aware of a note pad placed by his side.

He was so damned tired, but feebly grabbed the pad, made a note and gave it to her.

The young doctor smiled, and it lit up her whole face "Well hello, Mr Sheppard, but there's no need for 'thanks', it's my job. Now I'm going to leave you to get some rest, but I'll be back later." She said, but as she went to move away, the woman hesitated for a second. "I know you must be tired, and if I'm out of line I apologise – but are you in the military by any chance?"

When John slowly nodded his head she continued. "It's your hair. All the men I know wear it longer."

John took the pad, wrote then handed it over.

Her eyes went wide. "I'm dreadfully sorry, Colonel. I didn't mean to be disrespectful. " She apologised, and John saw her face turn scarlet.

The young woman was clearly mortified, and despite not meaning to, John realised that the doctor thought she'd annoyed him. He couldn't let her leave feeling upset, so he grabbed the pad and wrote one more time. _It's okay – call me John._

She smiled and her jet black hair bobbed around her shoulders, as she thanked him and walked away. He was wiped out, and sleep was pulling him under, but as he watched her leave John couldn't help reflect that life could be really weird sometimes. Here he was feeling like road kill, unable to speak, but having enjoyed his first decent conversation in days…

ooooOoooo

The strong amber liquid burned as it slid down his throat, but Carson savoured the aftertaste of the smooth single malt.

It warmed him, and almost chased away the cold, icy rock of despair that lay heavy in his gut. This whole bloody awful mess was his fault. What the hell had he been thinking to send a trouble magnet like John Sheppard away from his friends? Carson realised he'd been a fecking eejit to even think John could enjoy a seemly peaceful beach holiday without incident. He was after all, Colonel Calamity, as Rodney aptly named him, so he should have known it was a sure-fire certainty Sheppard would get into bother anywhere.

It was a beautiful place Hawaii, not in the same grandiose way as his beloved homeland, but nonetheless the lush, green vegetation made a striking backdrop to the deep, azure sea rolling onto the golden sands. Carson sat back and admired the scenery as Dave topped up his glass, then staggered, falling into the wooden recliner next to his. His companion was worse for wear and while he could hold his drink a little better, the sensible side of his brain knew he should have refused, as the headache from hell would make a familiar appearance in the morning. Still, Carson reckoned he deserved the misery a hangover would bring, as payback for the unhappiness he'd caused.

"Car…sun." Dave slurred as her rolled his head to face him. "I'mm a bad brother…"

Carson shook his head sadly. "No, son – you're not. You did what you thought was best to help John. It's not your fault this happened."

"Isss too…"

"No, it isn't. The Colonel just has a way of finding trouble wherever he goes." Carson explained, "I'm just sorry it happened here, while he was away from his friends."

"Seeee…told u it ws my fault! If…iff I'd been Rumen, orrr Tey…la, even Rudney, nun of this wud have happened." Dave banged his glass on the chair, spilling half the contents onto the ground.

Carson sighed, and scrubbed a hand over his face, as in that one small statement, he finally realised what had happened to John wasn't his fault or Dave's. Both of them had been acting in the man's best interests, and now he needed to get Dave Sheppard to believe that – as well as himself.

"Hell - I'm sorry, son. That came out wrong," Carson got to feet and stumbled towards the railing, then turned around. "What I meant to say was if this had happened in Pegasus, we would have known who we were up against, or at least had some idea. But here…well it wouldn't have mattered who was with him, none of us expected this. Besides, I'm starting to think it was an inside job."

"Surioeus…seri…u mean that? But wh…o?" Dave's glazed eyes' grew puzzled.

"Aye, I do, but as to who...Right now, I'm still finding it hard to believe that anyone on base would want to hurt him." Carson extended a hand to help Dave off the chair. "Now, you've had too much to drink, me too. Besides, I think it's about time I got back to work - did you hear that?" There was a scuffling sound coming from somewhere close by, and he already knew Dave didn't own a cat…

"Wha?" Dave shouted, and Carson put his finger up to his lips, then whispered. "Are you expecting anyone?"

Dave shook his head, and both men staggered to the side of the patio door and peered inside. It had become dark without them realising it, and now the room was shrouded in shadows. They couldn't see a thing.

"Do you have your cell with you?" Carson asked and Dave nodded. "Good, lad. Now I want you move away from the house and phone 911, then stay out of sight in those trees."

"No…wa..y! Wha…what about u?" Dave asked, as he slumped against the door, nearly landing on his ass.

The Scot steadied him, and made sure Dave could stand before he answered. "Don't worry, I'll be fine. Just go and make that call and I'll come and join you in a minute."

Truth was, Carson had no idea what he was going to do. He didn't have a gun, not that he would have used one, as he couldn't abide violence, plus his flashlight had been left on base with the rest of his off world gear. He was also a wee bit drunk. Too many whiskeys were now making themselves felt, and although he wasn't completely legless, he was still in no condition to get into a fight. Carson didn't want to join Dave just yet though, as if this was an intruder, maybe they had something to do with John. If he could just stay out of sight long enough to see who it was…

A loud crash behind him made him turn round just in time to see Dave Sheppard fall over a chair.

"Damn it man, I told you to wait over there."

But as Carson went to help him, the blow came from behind…

ooooOoooo

TBC

Well now poor Carson has been whumped too! Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please review - I really like to know what you guy's think.

A/N:- in case you don't know, eejit, is an old Scottish word for dumb or stupid ( But you probably guessed that!)


	10. Chapter 10

I'm delighted you enjoyed the last chapter, and thanks for the reviews!

But as to what happened to Carson, well on with the story...

THE TIES THAT BIND.

CHAPTER 10

Carson regained consciousness just as he was loaded onto a gurney, but was too dazed to give more than a feeble protest as a blinding light was flashed into his eyes.

Sheppard hated the optical check, and Carson could now understand why, as bright light mixed with a concussion, wasn't a pleasant combination. He vowed then and there to be more sympathetic in future, but suddenly remembered John was missing, and prayed there would be a next time. When he caught sight of Dave, although he was relieved to see his friend was unhurt, Carson was worried as the poor bugger looked as white as a sheet. At that point he wasn't able to do anything about it, as with blood running down his head he knew there was no choice but to get the wound stitched and dressed. Still, he was desperate to get back and make sure the guy was okay.

It was an old adage that doctors made the worst patients, but in his case Carson conceded it was probably true. For the next couple of hours he submitted to being poked, prodded, stuck with needles but was now well and truly scunnered, and had been ready to make a quick exit when he heard a familiar voice.

"Good grief, I can smell the booze from here! Can't you hold your liquor anymore, Beckett? I'd better warn you now, Carson, if this is you looking me up, then you're about twenty years too late." Carson recognised the distinctive mid-western drawl and peered up, bleary eyed, into the smiling face of an old friend.

"Stella Willis, what the hell are you doing here?" He asked surprised, but nonetheless pleased to see the beautiful former lecturer who he'd met while a medical student in Glasgow.

"It's actually Morgan now, and I could ask you the same thing." She countered, "When you were sitting in one of my classes, I often felt like knocking some sense into you, but who did you piss off enough to end up in my Emergency Room?" When she saw Carson's confused expression, Stella explained. "I'm Chief of Surgery here, and have been for the last five years. Anyway, let's see what the damage is." Stella turned to the young houseman who was standing nearby. "Are those Doctor Beckett's films?"

The young man, who looked no more than fifteen in Carson's view, blushed beetroot at being addressed by his superior. "Yes...yes. I'm sorry, Doctor Morgan, if I'd had any idea this patient was a doctor, especially a friend of yours…"

Stella interrupted, in a monosyllabic tone. "I would have expected you to treat him no differently than you're doing now, Doctor Adams. And, yes, Doctor Beckett is a good friend, but it doesn't matter who walks through these doors, everyone in this hospital is entitled to the best treatment we have available."

"Leave the wee laddie alone, Stella. He was doing just fine before you showed up – anyway, how did you know I was here?" Carson asked, as he was delighted to see her again, but knew that a Doctor of her caliber didn't usually frequent the ER, unless it was a bona fide emergency.

"Ralph, my husband, is the chief of police here. We were having dinner when he got a call about a robbery in one of the big houses. There was one casualty, an irascible Scot, who kept telling the ambulance crew he was a doctor and to just stitch him up and let him go – I knew it could only be you." She kidded, while continuing to scrutinise the x-rays.

"Very funny, but apart from a wee headache, I'm fine. So how about signing those discharge papers and letting me take you out for a coffee?"

The truth was there was a man with a big hammer pounding away at his skull, and he couldn't face anything to eat or drink at the moment. None of it mattered though, as Carson just wanted to get away and go back to make sure Dave was okay. Although by the look of Stella's stern expression, Carson realised he was probably on a hiding to nothing.

"Hi, Doc, how is he?"

"Ronon! It's good to see you son. How's Dave holding up?" Carson's head sprang up, and he immediately regretted the action as he gasped when the room swayed, after a shaft of pain spiked though his head.

Ronon's eyes narrowed in concern. "Teyla's with him. He's okay, worried about you though."

"I'm fine…"

"Excuse me, but who are you, and how do you know this reprobate?" Stella's expression turned curious, as she stood with her hands firmly on her shapely hips, squinting up at the tall Satedan.

In turn, Carson noticed Ronon simply looked amused under her scrutiny. "Ronon Dex, we work together." Ronon grunted.

Now it was Ronon's turn to be curious. "You two know each other?"

Stella replied. "I taught him everything he knows…about neurology." Carson saw the furtive glance she threw in his direction and knew Ronon had seen it too. He felt mortified.

Ronon smirked, then the smile faded. "Is he going to be okay?"

He watched as Stella perched her spectacles high on her glossy dark hair, which was only lightly streaked with grey, and gave the big guy a wry smile. "Well, Mr Dex, from what I can see our mutual friend's brain is intact, but he doesn't appear to be using it at the moment," she said, then peered round and gave Carson a scathing look.

Carson remembered it well from his student days, and inwardly groaned as he knew it meant trouble. "You have a concussion, Carson, which I'm sure you already knew, so just as you would with one of your patients," she said pointedly, "I'm admitting you for observation." Then she patted his leg, "but if you're a very good boy, I may come round tonight with some milk and cookies and we can have a 'wee blether' about old times."

Carson sighed, and leaned back to stare into her big, blue eyes, "You're a hard woman, Stella, but I'll be interested to hear about this paragon who took you on," he joked, then gave her hand a squeeze, "seriously though, tell him from me that he's a lucky guy. Anyway love, the enforced hospitality aside, it's really good to see you again, and I'll look forward to the chat."

He felt like a fool for getting broadsided and wasn't happy, but the medic in him knew Stella was right. Carson was still worried about Dave though, but at least his friends were there, and they would take care of him until he got discharged. In the meantime, now that he was a patient, patience was what he'd need, as for the moment, he had no option but to allow himself the dubious luxury of being taken care of.

ooooOoooo

Ronon hadn't wanted to go, as the doc was one of his people and it didn't feel right leaving him with strangers, except he wasn't. It was pretty clear from the way that cute doctor had given his friend the eye, she would take real good care of him. In a way she kinda reminded him of an older version of Teyla - a real woman. Just like his friend, Stella was smart, feisty, and as sexy as hell, a woman who knew exactly who, and what she wanted out of life. Someone worthy of his respect.

If he was honest, Ronon would never have guessed the Scot had it in him, but Carson was real deep, and in his own way fearless. Like right now, he'd sat there looking like shit, but as usual was more worried about others – Dave. It was bad enough some bastard had hurt his friend, but after having seen the house, Ronon reckoned it was a freaking miracle neither man was seriously hurt, or even dead.

The house had been trashed. Broken glass littered the kitchen and most of the furniture was either broken, or tossed into a heap. It looked like a robbery as the widescreen was missing, as were all the _toy's_ Dave had installed as a gift for his brother. John's case had also been taken which gave Ronon a weird feeling. He didn't know why it made him suspicious, but soon realised he wasn't alone, as from the look Teyla had given him, it was clear she felt the same way.

There was just something about the whole thing that didn't fly. McKay would figure it out though, he always did, but in the meantime he'd promised Beckett he would get back and look after Dave. Torren was teething and Teyla needed to get home, so he hoped Dave had sobered up enough so he could get some sense out of him.

He knew Dave felt bad at passing out and leaving Carson to get hurt, but Ronon was glad that he had. Dave was a suit, and even if he'd been sober, Ronon knew both men fighting together, wouldn't have been able to fend off such a violent attack. From the level of damage, Ronon guessed whoever had done this, hadn't acted alone, because he didn't know any guy, apart from maybe himself, who would be strong enough to wreak the devastation like he'd seen in Sheppard's house.

ooooOoooo

Stella was the one who'd got away.

From the moment he watched the statuesque American beauty take her place behind the podium, he'd been smitten. At the time he'd been a medical student in his final year, and never thought for one second the raven haired professor would look at a stocky Scots lad like him, but he'd been wrong. A chance meeting in the pub revealed they shared the same brand of wry humour, and when she'd asked if he could show her more of his lovely country, he'd nearly dropped his pint.

Their romance had been as deep as it was unexpected, and he'd been devastated when she was offered a dream job in Mercy General. Yet he'd said nothing, as it was the chance of a lifetime and he hadn't wanted to stand in her way. Carson had promised himself he would visit, intending to pursue her after he'd graduated, but of course fate had other plans, and the moment passed as his own dreams got in the way.

In the subsequent years he'd thought about her often, but in hindsight realised what they'd had while special, was never meant to last. As his missing friend would say, it had been a wild ride, between a woman who knew where she was going, and a young man who had yet to make his way.

"Hey, Scotty – you ready for those milk and cookies?"

Carson was dozing on the verge of sleep, but roused himself when he saw Stella standing there wearing a tight pair of blue jeans, and a pale blue tee that matched her eyes. She was also holding a flask and a plate of dry toast. "That doesn't look much like chocolate chip to me." He said, stating the obvious as he shuffled up the bed.

Stella eased herself gracefully into the chair and crossed her legs. He loved those legs, and they looked just as trim as they were when they'd first met over twenty years ago. She handed him the plate, but he gently took it and put it to the side. "No thanks, Stella, I don't really feel up to eating anything at the moment."

Immediately, despite her casual gear, she went into doctor mode and started checking his vitals. "Are you alright, Carson? I know you're a tough nut, but you would tell me if you felt it was more than a minor concussion?" She asked him, and there was anxiety mixed with a note of suspicion in her voice.

"Don't worry, hen, that's all it is – promise. And we both know nausea comes with that particular territory." He responded, as it happened to be true, but was relieved when his answer appeared to reassure, and he saw her start to relax.

"So…I know you're married – any kids?" Carson asked and saw her face light up.

"Two." She replied. "Andrew, who's twenty, and wants to be a cop like his dad, and a daughter, Melissa. She's sixteen, and a real beauty, Carson. Melissa doesn't know what she wants to do with her life yet, but she's real smart - I'm proud of them both." Stella paused, then her shining eyes became curious. "So what about you, Scotty? Last I heard you were becoming a high flyer, then you just seemed to drop off the map. What are you doing these days? Did you manage to find a good woman to put up with you?"

"So you were keeping tabs on me were you?" He smiled, and felt himself go scarlet as he hoped she didn't know too much about his life…or demise.

"Well you were the smartest student I'd ever had, and I knew you were destined for great things. I've heard that you've got more degrees than me now." She chuckled, causing her thick, dark hair to bob around her shoulders. "Anyway, I'm guessing your friend Ronon isn't from the medical profession, so were are you working?"

Carson started to twiddle with the sheets, as he tried to figure out how to answer her. "I work with the military now."

Stella tilted her head and gave him a searching look. "You wouldn't be involved with the investigation into that missing soldier by any chance?"

Carson's head shot up, spiking his headache again. "How the hell do you know about that? That's supposed to be hush, hush, Stella."

She caught a stray hair and pushed it behind her ear. "I don't, not really. When it happened Ralph got a call, asking for some information, but when he offered to help, he got real pissed when the brass told him politely to back off. Who the hell is the missing guy anyway, and how are you connected?"

His head was killing him, and he answered without thinking. "John Sheppard, he's a friend of mine. But as for what I do, if I told you…"

"You'd have to kill me?" Stella answered with a wry smile, but her eyes told him she understood not to push it.

At that moment, the nausea that Carson had been holding at bay chose to make an appearance and Stella rubbed his back as she held onto the bowl. "Don't try to fight it hon. I'm going to give you something for the nausea, and it'll make you feel sleepy, but I'm going to hang around until I see those cute, blue eyes of yours close before I head off. "

By now, Carson really felt like crap and despite enjoying Stella's visit, he just wanted to suffer in private. "Thanks, Stella – for everything."

He watched as she wandered off but quickly returned with a syringe which she pushed into his IV. Within minutes Carson started to feel himself drift, but her next words made him perk up again.

"How old is this missing friend of yours?" She asked, but before he could answer she continued. "The reason I'm curious, is I did part of my residency at this hospital and once treated a Colonel with the same name."

Carson's brain was starting to go fuzzy with the drugs, but he struggled to stay awake. "John's forty four, Stella, so it couldn't have been him, besides, that's a helluva long time ago, and you must have treated thousands of patients since then." He said, but then started to wonder, and wanted to know more. "How is it you remember that one particular case?"

Stella stretched out her long legs and folded her arms. "Well some people and events stick out in your mind. Besides, I'll never forget that case, the patient was admitted after having had an emergency tracheotomy at the scene, but then disappeared the very next day…"

ooooOoooo

TBC

Hope you enjoyed that...even if it didn't turn out quite the way you expected. And please review

As for John, well he'll make a return in tomorrows chapter. Oh, and 'scunnered' means fed up - but I'm sure you're getting scunnered with me giving you unnecessary explanations!


	11. Chapter 11

A big thank you again for the reviews, they mean a lot.

So, now we know a little about Carson's past, but more important, the team have their first clue. But how is our favourite Lt Colonel?

THE TIES THAT BIND

CHAPTER 11

John was pissed. He was getting real tired of being shunted around like the prize in a freaking hot potato game, waking up in a different place from where he had went to sleep.

How Forant had managed to get him from the hospital to the jumper, he hadn't bothered asking. It was now depressingly clear, that 'good old' grandpa could do whatever the hell he wanted, whenever, and John had no say in the matter. In a weird way, he actually missed the hospital, as despite having been in pain, at least the people there were genuine, and had cared for his well being. Unlike Forant, who'd kidnapped him on the premise of wanting to get to know him better, but was actually holding him hostage in order to satisfy his - as yet unknown - hidden agenda.

The silver lining, he felt better and the scarring was gone. John wasn't a vain guy, and could have lived with the small indentation in his neck, but Brantum's face had contorted when he'd seen it, and had gravely assured him he would soon be back in possession of his good looks. Personally, he couldn't have given a shit, but was curious as to how Forant would manage it. As usual though, there didn't seem to be limit on Forant's dubious talents, as within days there was no trace he'd ever been cut, and the only remnant of the whole sorry episode was a lingering sore throat.

Stuck in the jumper John felt like a caged tiger. It had been bad enough when he didn't have the strength to do much, but now he was feeling better, he couldn't sit still. His cell, or _room_ as Forant chose to call it, was the height of luxury containing every man toy a guy could want, except the most important thing – freedom. At least in Hawaii he'd been allowed to enjoy the beach, go swimming and even potter about the house on his own, but here, Janus was on his tail whenever he set foot out the door, so he hadn't, except to got the kitchen next door for eats. His case was back, which was a plus, although he wondered how the hell it got damaged. Another mystery he may never find the answer to, as despite his curiosity, John was determined not to give Forant the satisfaction of asking. He could tell his silence was really starting to bug the old man, and it gave him some satisfaction to know he'd regained at least some control of his situation, even if it was a very small victory.

There was a pile of brightly colored bags stacked high against the wall, which he hadn't touched. John knew bribery when he saw it, and wasn't interested in Forant's cheap ploy to buy his co-operation. Still, he conceded that perhaps _cheap_ was the wrong word, as he recognised some of the designer brands. Another illustration of how little the man knew him, as he wasn't into trendy gear, and couldn't be bought. In any case, he was happier wearing his own clothes, as their familiar feel empowered him in a way he'd never thought possible. They reminded him of home, and good times spent with the people there, friends, who he knew would never stop looking for him.

It was a strange thing, but despite there being no blood shared between them, in some ways Forant and Patrick Sheppard were quite similar. From as far back as he could remember, John had always wanted to join the Air Force, but his father had refused to even discuss it. The old man had then started a campaign to try and tempt him away from his dreams, using every carrot in the book. A new car, flying lessons, even his own plane had all been dangled in front of him, his for the asking, provided he followed the path dad had chosen - but of course, he'd refused.

When he'd signed up, the fight that had followed was epic, his father unused to defiance on any level, and the fallout…well, neither of them had ever recovered. Hindsight was twenty/twenty, and in some ways John wished he could turn back the clock. He wouldn't have changed his mind, but would have at least tried to repair the rift between them. Then suddenly it dawned on him, and he realised that despite their disagreements, their different ways of looking at the world, deep down both men had cared about the other - that's why they'd fought. If you didn't care, it didn't matter what the other person did, and John realised that despite being a domineering SOB at times, his father in his own manipulative way, had loved him.

He immediately felt bad for comparing his dad with Brantum Forant. Patrick could be difficult, impossible even, but his dad would never have hurt him, Forant though was a different matter altogether. The Ancient was a dangerous man, a psychopath, someone who manipulated people at will, had killed thousands, and despite having been pleasant so far, John didn't doubt there was trouble waiting for him just around the corner when he didn't give grandpa what he wanted.

"Good evening, John, it's time for your medication." John saw Forant glance at the unopened packages as he handed over one of Carson's pills, but to give him credit, the older man's expression didn't change. "That's the last of your medication, so come with me as I want to check you over. However, on the way to the surgery, I thought you might like to have a proper tour of my ship."

John did, and his unguarded surprise made Forant smile, but John just nodded and followed him out the door. The craft was awesome, but despite Rodney's description, John wasn't prepared for the sheer size of the interior. Quite simply the jumper defied the laws of physics, and as Forant led him from room to room, he was struggling to take in what his eyes told him. There was even a hot tub and pool table, but despite all the toys what he wanted to see most was the flight controls, because that would be his ticket home. Forant though had missed out that part of the tour, and John knew it wasn't accidental. Then he realised if he wanted to get back to Atlantis, he would have to swallow his pride, play nice, and try to make Forant trust him.

At the small, but well equipped surgery Forant patted the examination table. "Well, hop up, and let's see how you're doing." John recognised the scanner as it passed over his body, but noticed the low tech instruments, like the blood pressure cuff, were only slightly modified from the Earth version. Neither man spoke as the tests were carried out, but a short while later, Forant came to his side. "I'm pleased to say you have nearly completely recovered from that unfortunate incident on Hawaii, and even your energy levels are coming back to normal." He announced. "Of course, your recovery would have been much quicker if you had only told me about the tablets lying in your luggage," Forant rebuked, his irritation evident in his strained features, "nevertheless, I realise now it was a mistake to treat you without checking your medical records first. That was carelessness on my part for which I apologise, but I believe you're now well enough for us to begin the next part of our journey…"

ooooOoooo

Richard didn't like the heat much, and was inclined to stay indoors once the temperature hit seventy. However, even he conceded Hawaii was beautiful, especially when viewed from the inside of an air-conditioned limo. His unexpected sojourn necessary, as Doctor Beckett had asked to see him on an urgent matter, but was unable to return to Atlantis as he was still laid up in hospital. Normally it would have been a simple matter for either the Daedalus or the Apollo to beam him out. On this occasion though, it wasn't an option as both ships were out of orbit, besides, Beckett had informed him he was being cared for by a friend there, and didn't want to arouse the suspicion a beam out would inevitably cause.

When he walked into the room, it was clear from his ghostly pallor that the Scot wasn't well, but Carson's face lit up with relief at his arrival. "Thank you for coming, Mr Woolsey, but where's Rodney?" He watched as Beckett bobbed his head up to peer over his shoulder to see if anyone was behind him, and Richard was upset to see Carson grimace at the slight movement.

"Doctor McKay sends his apologies, and his regards, but regrets he couldn't make it. He said you would understand when I told you how close he was to cracking the Trojan." Richard explained, then sat down on the opposite side of the bed from Ronon. "How are you feeling, Carson?"

Beckett shuffled in bed clearly agitated. "I'm _fine_. I keep telling Stella…sorry, Doctor Morgan that, but she refuses to discharge me until the nausea stops." Carson looked over at the partly opened door, and Ronon following his gaze, went over to close it. "I'm sorry for bringing you all this way, and it might be for nothing, but I need to tell you something which could be important." Carson said, sounding grave.

Richard sat back on the seat and clasped his hands. "Well…what is it, Carson? No offense, but what couldn't wait until you returned to Atlantis?"

"I have reason to believe that Colonel Sheppard has been treated in this hospital…"

"When? There was no record of anyone matching his description when we checked." Richard interrupted, but he immediately sat bolt upright, and leaned forward.

Carson smiled as he folded his arms across his chest. "Yes, I know. But we were looking at the wrong decade. My friend was a resident here in 1975 and clearly remembers treating a Colonel John Sheppard. From what she's told me, his description matches John to a tee."

Richard liked Carson, respected him even, so resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "That's a very long time ago, Carson, and no offence to your friend, but how could she remember this patient so clearly?" Richard asked, curious.

The Scot gave a wry smile. "I asked Stella the exact same thing, and the reason she recalled it so well, was despite the seriousness of his condition, the patient was found missing from his room the next day, along with his medical records."

Richard was struggling not to be dismissive of what he'd just learned, and was trying to think of a reasonable explanation for it. "That is certainly a strange coincidence, but surely you must see how outrageous the hypothesis is. If this man was indeed our Colonel Sheppard, how did he go back in time?"

"Forant." Beckett and Ronon called out in unison.

Suddenly, Richard realised if it was the Ancient who had been responsible for Sheppard's abduction, then it could be possible, but then he remembered a very salient point. "Well he certainly is capable of it, but why? The last time they met he tried to kill the Colonel."

"Well that's true." Beckett agreed, "but I've had a lot of time to consider that during the last few days, and I'm guessing if a man like Forant had wanted to kill you…well let's just say the Colonel would've been pushing up daisies by now."

"Even so, Carson, with no concrete evidence, we cannot automatically assume it was _our_ John Sheppard." Richard responded, but his head was buzzing trying to think what to do next. Then it came to him. "Tell you what, I have a contact in Washington who can check the archived military personnel records. There may well have been another Lt Colonel John Sheppard serving at that time, but if there wasn't, then the information your friend provided may just have given us our first lead."

He saw Ronon's expression go sour then grunt, but Beckett just nodded. "Fair enough, and thank you, Mr Woolsey, for not dismissing my theory out of hand."

Richard eased himself out the chair and shook Carson's extended hand. "I value your opinion too much for that, Doctor. Yours too, Ronon. But let's just say I want to make sure of my facts, before I would send that particular report to the IOA…"

ooooOoooo

"Please stay where you are, John." Forant asked politely. There was a trace of a smile flitting on the wrinkled face, but his eyes were as hard as ice, and John didn't doubt by Janus' stern expression what would happen if he chose to refuse his grandfathers request.

John watched as Forant touched a familiar looking bracelet around his wrist, then suddenly the wall of the sports room melted away to reveal the back of the jumper. It looked identical to every one he'd ever been in, except for a couple of significant differences. A flux capacitor that was tucked neatly beside the pilot's consol and some wild looking visual displays he'd never seen before.

On instinct he went to move forward, but Janus thrust an arm across his chest. "That's far enough – for now." Forant told him. "Once we have reached a better understanding I'll be more than happy to share some of my secrets with you, John, but for the moment, you shall ride in the back. Be sure to buckle up." Then Forant smirked, before turning round and walking to the front of the craft.

When Janus removed his arm, he hung around until John plopped down on the bench and secured his belt, before moving away to join Forant at the front. John was seething. He felt humiliated and was frustrated as hell, especially as he was accustomed to the driver's seat, but concealed his anger, as he knew getting mad would get him nowhere. Forant couldn't stop him watching though, so John tried to appear unconcerned while he paid attention as the older man touched the bracelet again, this time to deactivate a force field just long enough to allow the two men to take their seats.

John tried to follow what Forant was doing, and although he got a handle on some of the controls, he was thwarted by his position at the back of the craft. The entire left hand side of the console was out of sight, and despite his natural ability as a pilot, he was painfully aware any chance of escape would have to wait until he had more than a rough guess how to fly this bird.

With no option but to give up for the moment, John looked out the window instead - it was amazing. He'd experienced hyper drive before and thought that was pretty cool, but this was something completely different. Psychedelic colors seemed to dance around a whirlpool in space as they whizzed past, it felt kind of hypnotic and was like nothing he'd ever seen before. John could hear the low hum of the capacitor, and fell his body tingle with the rhythmic vibrations. He'd always gotten a buzz from flying one of these babies, but this was like the best trip ever. Not that he'd ever used drugs, except as a patient, but who would need to when you could get a high like he was getting now?

Forant turned around, caught his eye, and from his expression John guessed the bastard knew just how he was feeling. It was exhilarating and tortuous at the same time, knowing he was so close, but wasn't allowed near the controls. John decided right then and there, regardless of the consequences, he must fly this awesome craft, he simply had to.

Just then, almost as quickly as the wild ride had begun, the ship began to slow and soon the sparkly lights gave way to the inky blackness of space. As the invigoration gave way to a mixture of anger and trepidation, John wondered where the hell Forant was taking him now. A vague shape appeared in the distance, but it wasn't Earth as he recognised that particular orb only too well, besides why would Forant return so soon? At that moment, John watched as the scene outside disappeared into the whirlpool once more, but this time when it cleared, he saw a place he knew only too well, it was Atlantis…his home.

ooooOoooo

TBC

I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and yet another piece of the puzzle - but you know I haven't finished with the whump - not by a long way!

And please review, as I love to know what you think.


	12. Chapter 12

Thanks again for the reviews and the alerts, they really do encourage me to keep writing. Thanks again to my beta Sherry 57, and any mistakes are mine - as I've made quite a few tweaks to this chapter.

As for the story - John is back at Atlantis?

THE TIES THAT BIND

CHAPTER 12

Atlantis was in his sights, but why had Forant come here? John didn't believe for one second it was to take him home. The bastard was up to something, but there was no way he would let him hurt his people – no way. Consumed by rage, John slipped off his belt and without thinking, rushed to confront him...

The wall of pain hit like a ton of bricks, as the concussive force of the field sent him flying, slamming him hard against the jumper floor. Stunned, John could only lie there groaning, as Forant appeared behind the sparks of light flashing in front of his eyes.

"Now that really wasn't too smart, was it, John?" Forant pointed out, in a clipped angry voice as he stood over him with his arms folded. Then he turned and instructed the man by his side. "Take this fool to the surgery, Janus, and stay with him until I arrive."

John didn't know what offended him the most. Forant dismissing him as a dumb ass, or being picked up like a rag doll and thrown over Janus' shoulder. The only person ever to have done that before was Ronon, but from what he could tell Janus was a smaller build, more like him, besides, John knew that despite McKay's scathing comments, he really wasn't that much of a light weight.

The world was spinning, his head thumping, and he was aching from head to toe, as he was bobbed along gaining an unusual perspective of the jumper as they went. John realised that despite the uncomfortable ride, he must have zoned out when he was jolted awake as his _transportation_ dumped him unceremoniously onto the examination table. Then Forant arrived.

"Let's see what damage you've done to yourself now." Forant muttered as he pulled on a pair of latex gloves, and positioned the scanner over his body. His comment was so reminiscent of something Carson would say that a wave of homesickness hit him in the gut. Forant wasn't the caring Scot though, so John bit back a retort that he'd only got hurt because of _his_ force field.

Minutes later, Forant pushed the device aside and started palpating his chest eliciting a pained gasp in the protest. The bright light flashed into his eyes didn't do him any favours either, as his headache spiked and John chewed his lip to suppress a low moan.

Finally the Ancient peeled off the gloves and threw them into the bin. "You're a lucky boy, John. There's a couple of cracked ribs on the left hand side, and I have no doubt you'll be black and blue tomorrow, but fortunately you only have a minor concussion."

John smirked, then winced. "Yup, that just about sums up how I feel – 'lucky'."

"I could fix those ribs for you, and give you something for the pain, but after that performance today I should really let you suffer for a bit…but I won't." Forant teased, but there was a steely edge to his voice and his eyes were cold. John didn't have any doubt the man was pissed, but then so was he. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell him that he'd suffered much worse, and to stick his miracle cure, but then John remembered if he wanted to find out what Forant was up to, he must try to keep his temper in check.

"Thanks, I'd appreciate that. But in a way this is really your fault you know." John forced on a smile but couldn't resist the dig, regardless of Forant's warning look. "Think about it. You've gone to all this bother to abduct me, then I look out the window and see Atlantis! Come on… how did you expect me to react when I saw you'd brought me home?" John reasoned, and saw Forant's expression change as the statement hit home.

Bleary eyed, John watched as Forant drew up a syringe, then felt a pinch as it was pushed into his arm, but his pulse started to race when a cold band of metal was placed over his chest. His mouth went dry at the thought he'd finally exhausted Forant's patience, and wondered what was coming next, but when it wasn't locked into place, John eventually started to relax when the band became warm and the pain slowly started to dissipate.

"Starting to feel better?" Forant asked, and John nodded, "Good. And you're right." Forant admitted. "I should have considered your reaction at being brought here, after all we're not friends yet, and so far I've done nothing to gain your trust."

John was amazed, but suspicious of his honesty, although for once the wry smile seemed genuine. "This isn't your Atlantis, John, it's mine, and I've brought you here to understand a few things - take you back to the beginning if you like. Help you to learn why I was so desperate to make sure of your existence, and show you something of my journey. Let you see the reason why I am so passionate to give Pegasus back the Atlantis it deserves." Forant swallowed hard at the end of his speech, and John realised that was the first time he'd seen any real emotion from the Ancient.

The warmth was seeping through his body, easing the sharp pain spiking through his chest, and lulling him to sleep, but he wanted to respond. John wanted to protest that Atlantis was already that kind of place, and the people in it, his people, were the best of the best, yet he remained silent. It went against the grain, and made him feel like a shit, but John figured it wouldn't do any good anyway, plus he needed to stick to the plan and try to keep on Forant's good side – at least for now. In any case, as his mom used to tell him, it was important to try and see things from the other guy's point of view, although John reckoned when she'd said that, mom probably never figured her young son would ever meet a psychopath like Forant.

"Sleep, John and let the healing band do its work." Forant went over to the other side of the room and returned with a blanket, which he gently tucked over his body. Then as the Ancient went to leave he paused, and turned back to give him a fond look. "Once you are feeling better, we will prepare to take the first step into my past, and your beginning…"

ooooOoooo

Forant smiled as he clicked it into place, and John tried not to flinch as he felt the slim, metallic bracelet mould against his wrist. It was similar to the one Forant wore, but more like the wristband locked away in Atlantis, and the knowledge that particular bracelet could have caused the death of his best friend, was ingrained in his memory. John wasn't willing to share that piece of information, so composed his features to pretend he was pleased with the gift. Still, the silver band glinting in the light seemed to mock him, and he just hoped his returning smile didn't reveal the turmoil he was feeling inside.

"Do you feel it, John?" Forant asked, his eyes shining, and without waiting for an answer he continued. "The bracelet responds to our specific gene, just like this craft." He raised his palms out to either side and gazed around. "I know that all gate ships can be operated by the Ancient gene, even the bastardised one your Doctor Beckett developed, but this one is only attuned to ours. That's why you felt the way you did in the cockpit – it recognised you immediately. The craft was calling out to you, John."

For a moment John was too stunned to speak. It seemed incredible, but with this man it appeared everything was possible. But a ship, especially one like this, attuned to his DNA, was every pilot's dream. Then reality struck home. "You'll never let me fly it, will you?"

Forant shrugged, then his eyes clouded over. "Perhaps, in the fullness of time…say twenty or thirty years, but in the meantime, no."

Angry at Forant for tempting him with a ride he'd never enjoy, John tried but failed to keep the sarcastism out of his voice. "_Great_. I'll look forward to that. So…if I'm not allowed to fly this bird, then what's the point in having the bracelet, and how do I get it off?"

"This device will accord you greater freedom about the ship, as all you need do is think about where you want to go, and you'll arrive. However if you really don't want it, just 'think' it off, the same way that you did with any of the Ancient technology on Atlantis." Forant said, then his face broke into a smug smile. "It's your choice of course, John, but without it, I'm sure you'll eventually learn to _enjoy_ Janus keeping you company every time you leave your quarters - because it wouldn't do if you got lost." John's face fell, as he realised Forant knew he'd _got_ him, and if he wanted any kind of independence, the bracelet would have to stay. "Now I need you to listen carefully, John, because it's imperative you understand how the device works." Forant continued.

John pushed his frustration aside, ignored the lingering ache in his joints, and tried to pay attention.

"There are three indentations on the bracelet. The oval one will grant you access to any room you wish, bar one - the control area. For that reason, the round indentation, which disarms the force field in the cockpit, has also been disabled." Forant narrowed his eyes. "A situation that will remain until I'm confident you can be trusted."

John had expected as much, so decided not to rise to the bait. "So what's the square one for?" He asked, as he lifted his wrist to scrutinise the bracelet in the light.

Forant's smile was back in full beam. "That's for your personal cloak."

"Did you say _personal_ cloak?" John asked, incredulous. "The only guy I know who has one of those gizmos is Harry Potter, and last I heard he doesn't exist outside the pages of a book."

The Ancient rolled his eyes. "I do know who Harry Potter is, John. In order to fit in where ever I go, I've found it useful to acquaint myself with each planets arts, literature and cultures – even children's books. However, I digress. This isn't a separate invisibility cloak, the bracelet is connected, an extension if you like, to the one in the gate ship. Up till now though, I have only managed to boost the power to conceal our presence for up to approximately a mile from the craft. Therefore, it's important to plan each trip carefully, and ensure to dress in the style of the era we visit, just in case either the cloak fails, or we accidently exceed the range."

While he spoke, Forant handed over a tunic and matching pants, just like the ones John had seen on the holograms in Atlantis. He felt uneasy about what Forant was planning, but tried to conceal his feelings as he accepted his new threads, and went away to change. When he returned a few minutes later, both Forant and Janus were waiting for him dressed in a similar fashion.

"Ready?" Forant asked, but he wasn't. It was a rhetorical question however, as once again the entrance to the back of the jumper was revealed, then almost immediately John was ushered outside to what he recognised as the original Atlantis mainland.

It was early evening, and dusk was rapidly approaching shrouding the tall trees of the nearby forest with a rosy glow. John turned towards the city, and looked longingly at the golden hues setting the magnificent towering spires alight. He missed Atlantis, but this wasn't his home. Just like the time he'd visited the future, to yet another Atlantis, John had learned an important lesson. It wasn't a place that made it home, it was the people in it. Not normally a sentimental guy, John knew that without Rodney, Teyla, Ronon, and all of his other friends, this Atlantis, although beautiful, was just another city.

He felt a sharp pain in his arm as Janus roughly pulled him to a halt. John drew him a look, but Brantum ignored the exchange. "Before we go any further, John, no matter what happens you must stay silent." Forant warned. "Just like the cloak of the gate ship you know, it is only your appearance that is hidden, nothing else."

Janus then let go, and John rubbed the painful indentation, the red mark still visible under the white tunic. Yet when he arrived at their destination, and looked down on the scene below, the ache was shrouded by another, as he watched the prone figure of Elizabeth Weir carried from a wrecked jumper.

Her brown curly hair was matted with blood, the scarlet in stark contrast to her pallid features. She was unconscious, obviously badly hurt, and John felt an impulse to run and help, as he watched others lift her limp frame onto a stretcher and take her away. John knew it wasn't really his Elizabeth, but the one they'd found in stasis. His friend was dead, lost to the replicators, and he still missed her. Sam had been a good leader, and Woolsey, despite his initial reservations, was turning out to be okay. Elizabeth Weir though had been special, and would always hold a place in his heart. It was her who'd given him the opportunity which had changed his life, yet it was her, who of all people he'd failed to save…

Radek came next, and John was distressed to see the diminutive scientist's broken body examined, then his corpse covered with a blanket. He tried to remind himself that in his Atlantis the Czech was still alive, probably irritating the hell out McKay, but nevertheless, the sight gave him a jolt. From what the old Elizabeth had told them, he should've expected it, but at least he then knew his own lifeless form would come next. This time though it was Forant who stiffened as the other John's remains were carried outside, as the Ancient caught sight not just of the dead man, but also his younger self carrying the stretcher.

The body looked a mess, but it didn't bother John the way perhaps it would have before he joined Atlantis. It was spooky, for sure, but he'd been there, done that, and had already bagged his own corpse on the 'other' Daedalus. And when the young Forant appeared John wasn't surprised either, as he'd seen the picture, lived with the older version, but still had to admit Brantum as a young man was his mirror image. Again that too wasn't new, as he'd met his own clone and even fought the malicious double conjured up by the crystalline entity. Unlike either of them though, the man he was watching now wasn't just a copy, or even another version of himself. This guy, the young Forant, was his own flesh and blood, a relation, and John finally understood how Forant must have felt upon discovering _his_ body.

ooooOoooo

He was shivering, but Brantum knew it wasn't just from the cool mist rolling over the hillside. It was so long ago since he'd started his journey he'd forgotten just how he'd felt. Brantum turned to John who was still watching the scene below, and knew despite his grandson's continued reticence, it had all been worth it. The fine young man by his side was his kin, the legacy to all of his hopes and dreams, but more than that, John Sheppard was the last of his line, and Atlantis's best hope for the future.

Regardless of the youth he'd lost along the way, Forant was glad he'd went back in time to make sure of John's existance. Things hadn't quite turned out the way he'd envisioned, nonetheless, he was optimistic that at last his plans were finally back on track. Now it was time to start making them a reality.

"What are you thinking, John?" He asked. Brantum was curious at what his answer would be, as John's face had paled at the sight of his friends being brought from the wrecked jumper, but strangely had shown no distress at his _own_ lifeless corpse.

John's face was a bland mask as he faced him. "Why did I crash?

Of all the questions he'd considered, that was the last one Forant was expecting. Yet given the fact John was a pilot, he realised that had been naïve of him. "You didn't realise it was a time machine, and had no clue how the technology worked, it was pilot error, John."

John lips tightened into a firm line, and he appeared uncomfortable. "Fine, I understand, it was me who screwed up, and if you want thanks for giving me another chance at life, then - 'thanks.' But apart from that I don't know what you expect me to say?" John shrugged and looked him square in the eye as he responded. "Look, I'm a soldier, Forant, and death, well let's just say if it had been my time…" Then as John's voice trailed away, Brantum saw his expression soften. "I do get it though. I do understand why you felt compelled to do what you did," he said, " it must have given you quite a shock to see someone who looked so like you, lying dead in front of your very eyes."

It wasn't quite the answer Brantum had been hoping for, but as they walked back to the gate ship, he stumbled and would have fallen but for a strong arm gripping his - John's. Brantum nodded his thanks, but it was clear John hadn't given his reaction any thought. It gave him hope though, as despite what he'd done to him, John had protected him out of instinct, just like he would one of his own.

"I need you to do something for me, John. I would do it myself, but it will require a young Brantum Forant, to wander round the halls of Atlantis." Brantum asked, and saw John's expression turn cynical.

After a tense silence John asked. "What do you want?"

Brantum smiled. "I need you to get something for me from one of the labs. Once we get inside, I'll direct you to which one."

After a long moment, John nodded. "I'll do it, but what I don't get, is why you didn't take what you wanted before you left, or even when you came to Atlantis the last time?"

Forant wasn't amused by John's less than gracious reply, but as he'd agreed to do his bidding, he tried to keep the irritation out of his voice. "The Wraith were coming and I had to leave in a hurry, we all did, but I foolishly believed my work would be there waiting for me, when I was ready to retrieve it. However when I did eventually return to Atlantis to meet you, the lab in question had been devastated by flood water and the vials destroyed."

John searched his face for a moment, almost as if he was going to defy him, then marched straight ahead. "Fine – let's go."

ooooOoooo

The halls of Atlantis were busier than he'd ever seen them, and it felt weird being back _home_ but with none of the familiar faces present.

John had left his bodyguards around the last corner to undertake the mission alone. Forant too afraid to proceed any further in case he lost the cloak, but Janus too was instructed to stay behind, which John thought was odd until he walked straight into - Janus.

At first he was stunned to see the doppelganger, then realised the man who'd abducted him was actually the fake. Right now John didn't know why Forant had fashioned his Janus on the real thing, but suddenly remembered the old Elizabeth having mentioned he was the Ancient who'd helped her save Atlantis. One thing was for sure, this man looked identical. Even the curly hair was the same, but the person who was steadying him was different, and the smile on his face kind - nothing like the taciturn man he'd left behind.

"I'm so sorry, Brantum, are you alright?" Janus asked, his cultured voice yet another difference from the Janus he knew, who shared a similar American accent to his own.

John nodded, but kept quiet, aware if he opened his mouth, that very accent would give him away. Before he left to undertake the mission, Forant had informed him the only danger would be if he met the young Brantum, although the older version said it wouldn't be likely, as he remembered his actions that day, and knew he'd still be in the morgue. Now, confronted with the real Janus, John felt pissed, and wondered why good old grandpa had neglected to mention this snippet of information, as if he wasn't careful this could land him in a whole heap of trouble.

Janus stood back on his heels and started to wave his hands about, gushing enthusiastically "Anyway, Brantum, I'm on my way to see the survivor you brought back. I find the whole thing fascinating, don't you?" John nodded again, and again fortunately, it was clear that Janus didn't expect a reply. "I'm astounded that my craft was used to come through time - I wonder how far in the future it came from?" Janus went silent, as he seemed to ponder the implications. "Anyway...the lady I understand wasn't in the pilot's seat, but I'm sure she'll know something, so I'm desperate to talk to her."

Janus was about to walk away, but then stopped and turned back with a concerned expression. "I understand one of them – the pilot - looked just like you." John nodded, and when it was obvious this time Janus was looking for a response, he pointed to his throat hinting he couldn't speak "Well, I'm sure that must have been very disconcerting for you." He said, then caught his eye. "When you're feeling better, if you want to talk about it, you know were to find me. In the meantime, take care of that throat."

As he watched the Ancient hurry down the corridor, John let go of the breath he'd been holding. It had been a close call, too damn close, and he didn't want to bump into anyone else, so keeping his head down, made his way quickly to the lab. The room was off the beaten track in a section he wasn't familiar with, but following Forant's instructions, he eventually found it. The cabinet containing the vials was just where Forant had told him, although John nearly dropped the lot when he heard a voice behind him. "What are you doing in here?"

The voice didn't have the familiar Scottish twang, but when John swung round it could've been Carson Beckett standing by the open door. "Oh, it's you Brantum, I thought it was Kinton spying on your research - you really do need to watch out for him. Anyway, a few of us are heading for dinner. When you're finished, do you want to join us?" The familiar looking stranger asked, and John quickly composed his features to conceal his surprise.

Again John pointed to his throat, and made the universal sign that he was catching an early night. Fortunately it did the trick, as the Carson lookalike just smiled with a sympathetic expression, then walked away. By now, his brain was in overdrive, and his heart was threatening to burst from his chest, but John couldn't consider the implications of the strange encounter, as he had to keep moving. Forant was waiting and he was on the clock, but before he returned there was something he needed to do…

ooooOoooo

TBC

Well, a few more surpises which I hope you enjoyed. And as always, please let me know what you think.


	13. Chapter 13

Thanks again for the reviews, and to all of you still following the story.

THE TIES THAT BIND

CHAPTER 13

At the resounding crash, Rodney came to his senses. It had come too late to save the 'Best Uncle' mug now broken in tiny pieces strewn across the floor, but at least the burst of anger seemed to have given him some release.

Though it didn't last long and now he felt drained, mentally exhausted, and ashamed of his behavior. He'd lost it big time, and now not only had he broken Madison's birthday gift, but he would also have to clean up the mess. Shards of porcelain were still sliding down the coffee stained wall as he went over to the cabinet, grabbed some paper towels, and got down on his knees. Rodney felt like a failure. Somewhere in the back of his mind there was a nagging feeling this Trojan was a clue to John's disappearance, but weeks later he still had no proof, as each time he'd got close, there had been yet another freaking encryption to decode.

"Are you alright there, lad?"

Rodney cringed at the sound of Carson's voice, and the feeling of guilt got heavier, as there was another person he'd let down. "I'm fine -"

"Aye, it looks like it," he turned to see his friend leaning against the door with his arms folded, looking concerned. "How about I give you a hand?"

"No. You're just out of hospital, and I don't want that lady doctor of yours giving me a hard time." Rodney said, trying to lighten the mood. "Besides, it's my fault, so I'll clean it up - but you can keep me company if you like."

He heard the chair getting pulled out, and the soft thump as his friend sat down. Rodney felt like a heel for not visiting Carson in the hospital, so swallowing hard, he got ready to apologise. "Look, Carson, I'm sorry for not coming to see you. It…it was just that I didn't want to leave the lab, as I really thought I was close to breaking the Trojan."

Carson eased himself off the seat and came over to stand beside him. "It's okay, Rodney. Yes…I'll admit I would have enjoyed a visit, but Ronon and Dave were there. Teyla came too and, of course Mr Woolsey…"

Rodney groaned with guilt. "Enough already, Carson – I get it!" He stood up, but was surprised to find Carson smiling. "You -" then Rodney shook his head slowly. "I fall for your wry Scottish wit every time, don't I?" He said, now sharing the joke. "Well for what it's worth I still feel bad about not coming over. How are you feeling now anyway?"

Carson motioned to Rodney to hand him some paper towels, then he went over to the coffee splattered work bench. "Better thanks. I still get the odd headache, and I have to make sure I don't get up too fast, but I'm trying to talk Jennifer into letting me back to work in a couple of days."

"Good luck with that," Rodney muttered. He loved Jennifer, but knew beneath the happy smiley exterior, was a strict doctor who was fiercely protective of her patients. Then he remembered how Carson got hurt. "Any more word about the break-in?"

"No. The police haven't found any clues, but Ralph, Stella's husband, thinks it could be connected to John's disappearance." Carson said, his voice laced with frustration.

"How does he work that out?" Rodney asked puzzled. "I thought it was a robbery."

"When it first happened, they visited every pawn shop, and interviewed every fence on the island, but didn't get a hit on any of the missing items. But before I left, Stella told me they'd just been contacted by a tourist who'd discovered everything lying at the foot of a ravine, along with John's laptop. However his case is still missing." Carson caught his gaze.

"Well that's just _great_, isn't it? No leads, but yet another freaking mystery to unravel!" He muttered angrily. "By the way, as to the information your friend gave us, Woolsey told us this morning that there had been a Colonel John Sheppard serving in the forces in 1975. I can see how she got it wrong though. This guy shared a similar colouring and build to John, and at forty-nine, he had also been a similar age then, but instead of a fly boy, this John Sheppard was a marine."

Carson scratched his head and made a face."That's not like Stella to get it her facts wrong - had this man undergone a tracheotomy?"

Rodney shrugged. "Don't know, apparently he died later that same year, and his medical records were partially destroyed when the archives were flooded about ten years ago."

"What about his family or friends, couldn't someone ask them?" Carson persisted, and Rodney could understand his frustration.

"Woolsey has already checked, but unfortunately anyone who knew him is dead - so it's back to square one." Rodney fired the sopping towels he was holding into the bin, but the small act of aggression didn't make him feel any better.

There was silence for a moment as Rodney's depressing announcement set in. "How's Dave?" Rodney asked quietly, as he got back down on his knees and resumed cleaning up.

"Not great. The poor lad is a complete wreck and feels responsible for what happened to John and me - which is nonsense of course." Carson informed him, looking worried. "He's certainly not fit for work, and I didn't want to leave him on his own, so I got permission to let him stay here for a wee while." Carson answered, then a moment later called over to him from the bench. He sounded puzzled. "I know you're stressed, son, but have you been vandalising your bench? There's some sort of equation written here that I can't get off. I think it's been scratched on."

Rodney grunted as he struggled to his feet and sauntered over. He scrubbed a hand though his hair as he read it - 5. Que. 2."It wasn't me…I just throw defenseless pottery against the walls," Rodney mocked himself before peering at it more closely. "Come to think of it, I don't remember seeing it before, but I'm guessing it must have been there since we arrived as the damage looks old."

"Do you know what it means?" Carson asked.

"It doesn't look like any formula I've ever seen on the database," Rodney said, "besides, the Ancients were a bunch of neat freaks, and I've never seen or heard of any vandalism found on the base." Rodney paused for a moment then his eyes went wide, and he snapped his fingers. "Wait a minute, I think this is a chess move, in fact I'm pretty sure it's the last move John made on our game before he left." Rodney's face broke into a smile. "It's him, Carson. John's been back – I just know it!" Then he asked. "I know any fingerprints will be long gone, but what about DNA? Could you take a swab or something? There might still be some trace lying in the grooves."

Carson expression grew skeptical. "Are you sure about this, lad? I know you've been working hard – too hard, and we're all worried about the Colonel…"

"Of course it was him!" Rodney interrupted, flinging his arms wide. "This is just the sort of clue Sheppard would leave. It's quirky, clever, and I'm guessing if he hadn't had much time to leave a message, then he decided to leave something only a genius like me would find."

Carson tilted his head, and gave Rodney a look. It was the same indulgent expression that his grandmother used to give him, when she'd thought he'd gotten over excited, and tried to humour him to keep him calm.

"I'll give it a go, Rodney," Carson agreed finally, "but you do realise after all this time it's a bit of a long shot, as we still don't know how long DNA remains viable."

Rodney nodded. "I know that Carson, but I'd still like you to try." Rodney asked and saw Carson nod. He then muttered. "It does makes you wonder though, if Forant did bring John back here - then why?"

ooooOoooo

When John next saw Forant, the Ancient was standing waiting with his arms crossed looking pissed. His face was taut with anger, but the old man said nothing until they were back within the safety of the jumper. "What kept you, John - I really hope you didn't do anything foolish."

He wasn't the only one annoyed, so John pushed the container with the vials against Forant with such force, the older man staggered. "So you want to know what took me so long, do you? He did!" John pointed at Janus, and activating his bracelet, stormed into the sports room. Forant though, quickly followed.

"I see -"

"No…I don't think you do." John interrupted, then pressed the issue. "Why the hell didn't you tell me he was a clone, and for that matter how did you think I'd react when I bumped into Carson Beckett?"

Forant gave a ghost of a smile. "Well actually that was Tomand…"

John rolled his eyes, then drew him a pointed look. "I'm not stupid, Forant, of course I knew it wasn't Carson. Now answer my question – why didn't you tell me I could bump into the real Janus? You sent me out there with my freaking pants hanging down."

"Such a crude expression, John, but I do get your meaning and I apologise for the omission." Forant went over to the drinks cabinet in the corner of the room, poured himself a large single malt, then offered John one. He refused. "Perhaps I should have told you about Janus earlier, but if I'm honest I never thought for one minute you'd be there long enough to meet the real one – my oversight." Forant then swallowed the drink in a gulp, and followed it with another large dram. "By the way, for the record Janus isn't a clone, at least not in the conventional sense."

"So if he isn't a clone, then what the fuck is he?" John asked, wishing now that he'd taken that drink.

Forant swirled the amber liquid about for a moment before replying. "He's a little bit of this, and a little bit of that - a truly unique creation." Forant smiled, it was a tight smile that didn't reach his eyes. "As you probably know by now, this gate ship originally belonged to the man you met, so it wasn't difficult to get a sample of his DNA. However, I wanted to create something special, a being that wouldn't succumb to the frailty of the human condition, so I made a few _adjustments_." Forant turned to face him, and for a second John saw the deep hurt visable in the lined features."I was lonely, John. You had refused my offer, and I couldn't face living through another eternity on my own."

John's anger melted away, and for a while he actually felt sorry for the guy, until he remembered what Forant had done to him and the implications of his latest experiment. "Look…I get that. And I suppose for someone with your smarts it's easy enough to make your own companion. Why though? You've been married before, why not just go down that route again, surely that would have been a better option?"

"Perhaps," Forant shrugged, "but as I said before, people are frail. They grow old and die, and while Janus may not have my life span, he'll be around a lot longer than any person I've ever met."

"Okay, now you have me curious." John responded, while walking over and finally helping himself to a drink. "I know you took me because you wanted my help, but only a small part of me is Ancient, so I'm like every other _frail_ human - I won't be around for ever. If you don't want the pain of loss, then why not just ask me for the information you need, then stick with Janus?" He asked then drained the glass. Yet even as John spoke the words, he knew his co-operation would only depend on what Forant wanted from him.

Forant stood back on his heels and his smile grew. "Do you remember that blood you so kindly donated?"

John nodded, and suppressed a shudder, remembering it wasn't just two pints he nearly lost that day.

"Well," Forant continued, "the serum I developed from it not only stabilised the decay caused by the defective stasis chamber, but it also has the additional function of prolonging life. We can hold back time, John, so you and I can work together, side by side, for centuries to come." He concluded and came over to put his arm around John's shoulders. Repulsed by his touch, John flinched, and the older man drew him a cold look.

"I thought that would have made you happy, John? Think of all the good you can achieve if you're not tied to a weak decaying body." Forant persisted, but John couldn't stop the look of horror covering his face, and he felt the Ancient slowly remove his arm, as his expression became guarded.

John glared at him, and slammed the glass down so hard on the credenza, it cracked. "Everlasting life is not my bag, Forant, it's yours. And if you really want to make me happy, take me back to my Atlantis. I don't want to live for ever, but while I'm living, at least there I know I can make a difference."

The atmosphere between the two men was becoming increasing tense, and John knew he'd probably lost all the brownie points he'd made by doing Forant's errand, but he didn't care. He could see by the flush of red, and the tight, strained lips that the older man was furious, but John had no intension of apologising. After all, it was Forant who'd abducted him, so what the hell did he have to be sorry for? Still, he decided it would be in his best interests to try and difuse the atmosphere by changing the subject.

"I know you don't have to tell me," John said, "but if I'm supposed to be part of your plans what's in those vials?"

For a moment he thought Forant was going to ignore him, as the old man had turned his back, and was continuing to drink glass after glass of whisky, saying nothing.

"I'd heard that bringing up children was difficult, but I always thought that was just an exaggeration." Forant muttered as if to himself, then swung round to face him, his eyes hard as ice. "Are you so naïve to believe that one small errand will gain my trust, John?" Forant chuckled. It was a low, humorless sound, "If you did, then you obviously aren't as smart as I thought you were." He moved slowly towards him, finished the last of his drink, then handed the glass to him with a smirk. "Wash that, boy, then go to your room and stay there. I don't want to see your face for the rest of the day."

"Who the hell do you think you're giving orders to?" John growled under his breath, then gasped in agony as a fierce current tore through his wrist. Waves of searing heat tore through his body, setting every nerve ending alight, bringing him to his knees. It seemed to go on forever, but when it eventually stopped, he was shaking and panting for breath as he curled into a ball holding his burning wrist protectively against him.

The pain was excruciating, and he could barely focus, as Forant came to stand over him and stare down with pure malice. "I'm the man who can take your life any time I chose, so treat me with more respect in future. Now get to the surgery and take care of that wrist... I'll not be helping you this time."

John watched as Forant activated his bracelet and the control room once again came into view, but the Ancient paused and peered down at him one more time before he entered. "And, John. You would do well to take this as a salient lesson, as I only have so much patience…"

ooooOoooo

TBC


	14. Chapter 14

Thanks for the reviews, and I'm glad you're still enjoying the story.

THE TIES THAT BIND

CHAPTER 14

Shrouded in agony, John took a shuddering breath, then crawled to the table and dragged himself up. He could barely stand, let alone walk, and knew he couldn't make it to the surgery on his own, so had no choice but to activate the bracelet once more. This time however, the small static burst that usually felt no more than a puff of air, was agonising.

In less than a heartbeat John arrived at his destination, but immediately fell to the ground struggling not to cry out as he waited for the pain to ease. It was intense, all consuming, and brought tears to his eyes as he curled up, and waited for the crippling pain to dull down a notch. When it didn't, John knew he had to get a grip and steeling himself, he managed to focus his addled brain long enough to deactivate the device.

More pain followed as another agonising spike tore through his wrist before the bracelet released, falling to the ground, leaving the raw tacky wound exposed. Now he did groan, as the fresh electrical charge set his nerves alight once more, and he tried not to gag at the rancid smell of his own burning flesh. His body was aching, on fire, and he wanted nothing more than to wallow in misery, but John knew he couldn't stay there. Using his good arm as leverage, he slowly struggled to his knees, then swearing through gritted teeth, grabbed the examination table and hauled himself onto his feet.

Like an old friend, his First Aid training came back automatically, and he forced himself to endure the cold spray of water as it helped douse the flames. It only gave temporary relief, but long enough so he could bear to dress the wound. Though with one hand useless and the other shaking, it wasn't pretty, but it at least did the job. By the time he was finished his head was pounding, and he longed for Carson's good drugs, but most of the cabinets were locked and all he could find was some Tylenol. It was a bad wound and John knew they would only make a dent in the pain, but they were better than nothing, so he snagged a handful, plus extra dressings, as he intended to hole up in his room for as long as possible. How long he would be accorded that _luxury_ he didn't know, as Forant had made it pretty clear he had no rights. His room while luxurious, was still a cell. And despite his grand pappy's previous fine words that he wanted to know him better, Forant had finally shown his true colours, and John was under no illusion he was a prisoner. One thing was for certain, regardless of what Forant wanted, it would be a cold day in hell before he put that fucking bracelet back on again.

How he would get there under his own steam was something he was working on, but for once fate chose that moment to be kind as Janus suddenly appeared in the room.

"Can I help?" Janus asked, as he made his way towards him.

"Did he send you?" His heart was racing, the beleaguered muscle still trying to recover from the jolt it had received, and John was surprised to hear how breathless he sounded.

When Janus didn't reply, his silence spoke volumes, "No -" John answered, then immediately realised that perhaps it wasn't too smart to look a gift horse in the mouth. "Okay, maybe you can," he motioned to the bracelet lying on the floor, "Give Forant his jewellery back – it's not my style. And take me back to my room."

Janus' expression became confused. "That doesn't make any sense, John," he said, "without the bracelet you will have less freedom. I thought you didn't like me following you around?"

"Well, things change," John responded, then stumbled and would have fallen but for Janus catching his good arm. He wanted to throw it off, but pride was a luxury he couldn't afford as he needed to lie down, before he collapsed. "Could we get moving, please?"

"I can give you something stronger for your pain…" Janus offered.

His arm was killing him and John was tempted for a moment, but his damn pride kicked in, and he wanted nothing from Forant…nothing. "Keep it. And if you don't want to give me a ride, just say so."

Janus shrugged. "If that's all that you want, fine. Still, you would do well not to fight him, John." Janus pointed out, his expression fathomless. "I know it may not seem like it at the moment, but he cares for you. He already regrets what he did, but our father is a proud man who doesn't like being disobeyed."

The fierce biting pain was weakening his resolve and he could barely focus, but a surge of adrenaline gave him the strength to pull away. "What did you say?" He asked, hoping it had just been his foggy brain sending him the wrong message.

Janus looked at him strangely. "I said he cared for you…"

John interrupted. "That's a pile of crap, but what the hell did you meant about him being _our_ father?"

He watched as the clone's face fell, and the color rose in his cheeks. "Well I know in Earth terms he is technically your grandfather, but we both share his DNA. He created me using some of his blood - we are kin, John."

Speechless, John could only stare as Janus dragged his eyes away, took his arm once more, and returned him to his room. John staggered on arrival, and barely managed to collapse in a heap on the bed. Janus moved to help, but at his glare, the clone backed off and after standing watching for a moment, finally left. Once he was alone, only then did he shuck off his boots and bury deep inside the covers. The chills had started, and now he was freezing, his body shivering despite burning inside out. Exhausted, in agony and completely demoralised, John hadn't thought his situation could get any worse, but he'd been wrong.

He'd already known he shared part of the Ancients DNA, so that was no surprise. What made no sense was the old guy donating blood to the clone, after he'd just recovered from his own body's degeneration. Then like a gut punch it hit him. It wasn't Forant's blood that was flowing though Janus, but his. It was his DNA that had helped make this freak of nature, and it sickened John to the core, knowing it was he who was actually _father_ to the clone.

ooooOoooo

Rodney had to hand it to the devious SOB, Forant was a genius, and if it wasn't for the sign Sheppard had left behind, he would still be clueless.

In the end, the swab Beckett had taken didn't produce any viable DNA, but Rodney didn't need hard evidence to know it was John's handiwork. He'd known Sheppard long enough to understand how his mind worked, as right from the moment they'd met, it was clear they shared a connection.

Rodney guessed that to onlookers it must seem strange, the flyboy and the geek, who were total opposites, but had become unlikely friends. John, more of a nerd than people realised, and as for him – well, Sheppard had taken him out the lab and out of himself. Sheppard's trust, had restored his faith in the human race, and joining his team had shown him a world outside of his work. Now Rodney enjoyed a fulfilling life, with friends who were more like family, but not forgetting a cute girlfriend who actually loved him.

Now he knew who was responsible for John's abduction, Rodney abandoned his usual logical way of thinking, and forced himself into the same sneaky mindset in order to figure out the old guy's game plan. Weeks of work went by the board as for once he ignored the Trojan, and focused solely on Sheppard. John was Forant's obsession, so he scrutinised every thing his friend had done and every mission he'd undertaken since the Ancient left the base nearly two years ago. It was painstaking work, tracing each communiqué either sent by Sheppard, or sent/received concerning him, but finally Rodney found the answer. With it, the mystery of the Trojan was also solved – it was Forant who'd put it there to cover his tracks.

Outside of the window dawn was shedding its rosy glow upon the city, but Rodney didn't care how early it was. He knew for sure now who had his friend, and as far as he was concerned, this was good news that couldn't wait.

ooooOoooo

Bleary eyed, Dave was hauled out of bed, pushed into the shower then _encouraged_ along the corridor by a determined Ronon. He didn't know why they wanted a worthless pile of garbage like him to attend a meeting. It was his fault John had been taken, his fault Beckett had gotten hurt, and he didn't deserve to be there. Why these good people were looking out for him, he didn't have a clue.

The conference room was filled with all John's friends when they arrived, and Mr Woolsey's expression spoke volumes as he fastened the top button of his tunic. It was clear by his tight lips and scathing look, he wasn't impressed at being summoned to a meeting at this obscene time of the morning. Dave could easily tell it was McKay who was the object of his displeasure, as the be-speckled man glared at the scientist while Ronon pushed him into a chair between Beckett and a weary Teyla. Lorne was there too and that cute doctor Keller. Dave knew she was off the market, taken, by Rodney of all people. Still, she looked damned hot, even at this time of the morning.

He was just about to ask why he was included when Woolsey spoke. "I apologise for calling this impromptu meeting, but Dr McKay has found something which he insisted couldn't wait until a more reasonable hour."

Oblivious to the rebuke, McKay beamed at everyone in the room, including his disgruntled boss. "Yes, I'm sorry about that," although Dave could clearly see he wasn't "but I thought you'd all want to know who has Sheppard – it's Forant."

There was only a small murmur around the large table, as Dave like the rest, was already aware of the suspicious information received concerning the mystery patient in 1975.

Rodney's smile slipped for a moment, the man clearly disappointed by the lack of response to his declaration. Then it seemed to dawn on him, as he rolled his eyes and scrubbed his hand through his hair.

"Okay, I get it. I know we've been down this road before, but this time I have proof." Rodney blurted out.

Suddenly awake, Dave noticed the rest of the tired group also perk up.

"It was an ingenious plan," McKay said, "and if it wasn't for the clue Sheppard left, we still wouldn't have been any closer to finding out Forant was responsible, or that it was him who used the Trojan to cover his tracks."

Before Rodney could prevaricate, Dave heard Woolsey, now looking slightly less pissed, address the scientist. "I trust your proof is more than a scratched sign on a workbench, Doctor?"

"Yes - of course it is," Rodney drew his boss a look, "Look, when I figured out it was probably Forant who was responsible, I decided to work at the problem from his perspective. He was obsessed with Sheppard, so I began to go through everything that John had done since Forant left the base. In the end I found a minuscule blip, practically undetectable, and if it had been anyone other than me on the case… well, it goes without saying we would probably never have found it."

"Found what, Rodney?" Teyla asked, her face alight with hope for the first time since John disappeared.

Rodney gave a smug smile. "When Radek and I first went through all the emails, we were looking for content - i.e. any suspicious conversations, or maybe even a secret code." He said. "Of course at the time we found none, but when I went back through all the emails concerning Sheppard, I realised they had been tracked." At the stunned silence, he explained, "After a lot of searching, I detected a tiny delay, less than a second, in some of the messages sent between John, Carson, the SGC - and yours too, Dave. They were small spikes, no more than stutters, that didn't appear in any of the others. Normally they would have gone undiscovered, dismissed as an innocent delay in the connection, until of course I started to look a little closer. When my eagle eyes discovered what Forant had done, it was a relatively simple matter after that to deactivate the Trojan."

Dave found himself suddenly alert for the first time in days. "What are you saying, Rodney?"

"Forant was waiting for John to return to Earth." Rodney pointed out. "It's looking more and more likely that his attempt to kill Sheppard was a very weird, sick, smoke screen, as he never intended it to succeed. From what I can figure out, the SOB realised we would find him in time, but after what had happened, he made us think we would never see him again. We were wrong. Now it's clear he's been lying in wait ever since, for just the right moment."

"So, this is still my fault then…" Dave said sadly, settling back into his fugue.

McKay waved his hands in the air. "No, no - no, I didn't mean that at all," he interrupted, "It wouldn't have mattered if John had been sent to Washington, or visited an old friend. Forant would have still found a way to abduct him. As it happened, he saw the emails between you and Carson regarding John's vacation and the rest is history – if you'll excuse the pun." Rodney paused for a moment, then snapped his fingers remembering something else. "Oh, yeah. There was another hit too, on John's medical records, soon after he was taken. So I think we can now be pretty sure John was the 'mystery' patient from 1975. From what your friend told you about the case, Carson, its looking very likely that Forant gave Sheppard something he reacted really badly to."

Teyla was smiling, even Ronon was more animated than he'd ever seen him, and Dave started to feel the burden of guilt which had been weighing heavily upon him, start to lift. John was still missing, but at least now Dave knew there was nothing he could have done to prevent it. He wasn't to blame.

"That's excellent work, Doctor McKay, and I'm relieved you managed to deactivate the Trojan." Woolsey congratulated the scientist, but then gave McKay a searching look. "I do however have one more question."

Rodney was standing back on his heels, with his arms folded, clearly very pleased with himself. "Sure, what is it?"

"Now we know Brantum Forant has Colonel Sheppard in his time machine…how do we get him back?"

ooooOoooo

TBC

Now isn't that a good question! Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please review, as I really like to know what you think.


	15. Chapter 15

Many thanks again for the reviews, I really appreciate the feedback. Thanks also to those still sticking with the story.

Well, John wasn't doing too well the last time we saw him, so on with the story...

THE TIES THAT BIND

CHAPTER 15

Time travel had lost its appeal long ago, and now Brantum wanted home, back to the place of his birth, Atlantis.

The memory of his parents was fleeting at best, but he would never forget the manner of their death, or the dried out corpses left behind. He vowed then to obliterate the Wraith, whatever it took, but was frustrated by the ineffectual council who had called a halt to his research. They refused to understand it was necessary for human experimentation to develop the serum. Immoral they'd called it. Sheppard too had voiced his disgust in no uncertain terms the last time they'd met. But Brantum felt triumphant, as despite the setbacks and the long years of hard work, he'd finally done it.

Brantum regretted the lives lost in the process, but he believed they were casualties of war, and their sacrifice would not be forgotten. Thanks to those good people, he had finally managed to find a way to wipe out the Wraith menace for good. Thousands had died during his experiments, but millions, perhaps billions would live thanks to his research. Brantum still needed John's help though. With his co-operation, it would be much easier putting his plan into place, if not, he would have no option but to use the less palatable, 'Plan B'.

Although how he was going to get John's support now, was problematic at best. Brantum knew he possessed a temper, and despised himself for the weakness, but drunk, it was ten times worse. He had lost control, and while his grandson did deserve a lesson in humility, he'd gone too far. The outside of John's bracelet shone in the light, but the inside revealed a different story. Two sides of the tale, one bright, full of wonder, a marvel of science. The other, dark, its beauty obscured with dried, burned flesh. Brantum realised with dismay that the bracelet was a representation of himself. Too many years of following his obsession, had turned him into an arrogant, ruthless egocentric that would do anything to obtain his goal. His dark side had caused this, but Brantum was more disgusted by what he'd become, than the damage his actions had caused.

Yet, there was no turning back now, not when he was so close. There was still work to be done, but he would give his grandson one more chance to come on board. The boy had after all, provided the final piece of his plan, so he owed him that much. Still, he would have to incur John's wrath one more time, as he couldn't allow the stubborn young man to become ill once again.

ooooOoooo

Brantum didn't know what he expected, but when he entered the dimmed room he was shocked to find John drenched in sweat, his face contorted, gasping for breath and his lips blue. He rushed over to the bed, ignored John's feeble attempts to push him away, and was alarmed to find his pulse racing.

"Leave…me…alone." John spat out, barely able to speak, but his feet did the talking as Brantum caught a blow to the thigh which made him stagger, nearly landing him on the floor.

He pushed his anger aside, along with the pain radiating through the limb, as he sat on John's legs to restrain him, then grabbed both his arms. Brantum didn't mean to hurt him, but he elicited a groan when he accidently touched the bound wrist. After what he'd done, Brantum accepted John's reaction was perfectly natural, but regardless of how his grandson felt about him, he knew he must act quickly or the boy would die.

Brantum caught John's angry gaze, and held it, "You may as well calm down, John. I'm not leaving." He spoke the words slowly and succinctly, but the young man continued to struggle, though he noticed John was getting weaker with every shallow breath. "I need you to cough, John. You're in tachycardia - do you understand? The shock you received gave your heart a jolt and now it's beating much too fast. I need to get it back to it's normal sinus rhythm." Brantum explained, and to his relief John's glazed eyes lost their fire, as he stopped resisting and tried to cough.

"Good, man." Brantum encouraged, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. "Again, John. Please – you must try."

He could tell John was doing his best, but the man was now too weak to give the action the force needed, immediate intervention was required.

"Janus!" He called out and thanked the stars for the clone's advanced auditory system, when Janus suddenly appeared in the room.

"What can I do, father?" Brantum ignored the term for once, only too relieved to get help.

"I need icepacks, an IV and bring the defibrillator. In fact," Brantum instantly changed his mind, as he watched John's eyes flutter shut, "just take him to the surgery."

Janus lifted the prone man just like he were a child, and with as little effort. Within minutes John was lying on the examination bed, hooked up to oxygen and an IV, his vitals being monitored by machines.

"Is he going to be alright?" Janus asked, and to his credit Brantum saw him look concerned. "I hope so. Now bring me those ice packs would you?"

Brantum took them then placed them around John's face. "Okay, that's all we can do for now – except wait."

He kept one of the packs for himself, sat down on the nearby chair, and placed it on the stinging pain radiating from his leg. Brantum knew he could obliterate his own pain in an instant without even leaving any trace of a bruise behind, but felt he deserved to suffer, just a little, for his stupidity in nearly taking his grandson's life.

John was important to his plans, but he had been naïve to think it would take a few trinkets and some persuasive words, to tame a force of nature like him. Besides, he didn't want to. It was that very quality that was important to him. John's strength of character, more than the physical was what he needed to encapsulate. Janus was his magnificent creation. He was stronger than any human, intelligent, resourceful, but the clone lacked understanding of the human condition, and the experiences of what made a man the person he was. John Sheppard was the perfect role model, and he needed to know what made him tick. Time though was a factor here, and for once his fine machine wouldn't be able to help. The conclusion to his life's work was imminent, and all of the plans he'd made were now in place. It was now only John that was left to play his part, and Brantum would make sure he would, whether the stubborn young man wanted to - or not.

ooooOoooo

The cool mist had barely lifted even though it was now mid-morning, and John shivered, freezing, hidden within the cover of the cloak. He glanced down with disgust at the bracelet now molded to his right wrist, it had been replaced while he'd slept, despite the fact Forant knew he never wanted to wear the freaking thing again. However, he acknowledged that without it, he wouldn't be here now, experiencing the rush as he watched Orville Wright take to the air for the very first time.

Over the years he had flown just about every craft known to man, and even a couple that weren't. Yet as a pilot, he would have given anything to be where Orville was right now. The simple biplane didn't look much, and he knew its gasoline engine was nowhere near as powerful as a 302. It was however the first manned flight, and John wished he could tell the brothers just where their invention would lead.

For twelve awesome seconds, the muslin covered wings carried the wooden craft for one hundred and twenty feet. It was the coolest thing he'd ever seen, history come to life before his eyes, and even with Forant standing by his side, he couldn't keep the smile off his face.

"There's nothing quite like watching history in the making, is there John?" Forant whispered in his ear, and John nodded with reluctance. "Maybe one day we'll take another little trip, but for the moment, I think it's time we started making some history of our own."

John's smile faded as a chill gripped his heart - it was over. Not just the very first maiden flight, but also the brief sojourn he'd been granted since waking up to find the Ancient sitting by his bed. A touch on his arm made him turn round, and he saw Forant smiling, motioning to go inside. John felt warmer out of the cool December morning, but the jumper felt bleak and unforgiving. He was back in his prison heading once again into the unknown, but at least he caught one last glimpse of the Wright Flyer before they left 1903 behind.

"Are you alright, John?" Forant asked, without looking round.

"Fine…" And he was, at least physically. In truth, he was freaked out by the whole weird experience. Today had been good, he wouldn't deny that, but sci-fi, space travel, they were McKay's bag, not his. John just wanted to get home, and off the rollercoaster he'd been on ever since Forant came into his life.

Forant had been there when he'd awoken, attentive, but not apologetic for what he had done. The same man who'd hurt him, then also proceeded to care for him, and now the only physical reminder was a band of perfect new pink skin around his left wrist.

Since his recovery, Forant had been the perfect host doing everything in his power to win him round, including embarking on a 'road trip' like no other. John had marveled as he'd watched the dinosaurs roam only yards from the jumper, the Earth vibrating below his feet under their mighty weight. The arrival of the Mayflower, and the signing of the Declaration of Independence, had also been stops on his tour, Abe Lincoln just standing a hair's breath away. He'd even watched Muhammad Ali win his first heavy weight title. All Forant's choice, but mind-blowing none the less. But this trip had hit the mark, as the faded pictures of the first flight had inspired him to take up the career which set the course of his life. A smart move from the Ancient he had to admit, although Forant was no fool, but then neither was he.

Forant could play nice for as long as he wanted, but as far as John was concerned, the gloves were off. The Ancient's words came back to him_ "But for the moment, I think it's time we started making some history of our own."_ and John knew the reason for his abduction would soon be made clear. He had a role to play, that was no secret, but the what, the why, and the where, were still to be revealed.

John wondered about Janus, and how he fitted in. He didn't buy the sob story that the clone was created to keep the Ancient company, besides, the old guy was so vain, he only need look in a mirror to make himself happy.

Whatever was on the cards, one thing was for sure, John was pretty certain he wasn't going to like it…

ooooOoooo

Forant left the flight deck, and stopped in front of John just as he was about to unbuckle his belt. He was smiling. "I'd like you to dress for dinner, John, and wear the new suit I bought you." Forant instructed in an abstract manner. "This will be our last day in the gate ship for a while and I feel like celebrating, because later tonight we arrive at my lab, then it's down to work."

John's brief sense of relief at knowing Forant's game plan would soon be revealed soon vanished, to be replaced with apprehension. "Can't wait…" He couldn't keep the sarcasm out of his voice, and his lips twisted into a humorless smile. John knew Forant had saw it, but it was obvious the old guy was choosing to ignore it, as his expression didn't change. "So, when are you going to reveal my part in your grand plan?"

"My, my, we _are _keen," Forant gave a low chuckle, but the smile didn't reach his eyes, "however, our discussion can wait a little longer. I'm a creature of habit, John. Dinner first, then we'll get down to business. In the meantime, collect everything you want to take with you, then get yourself ready – Janus doesn't like his chateaubriand getting spoiled."

Time was relative in the crazy world John was living in. Only five hours before, he'd been standing, freezing his butt off at ten thirty-five hundred hours, in Kitty hawk, North Carolina. Now he was dressed in finest Armani, trying to choke down a fancy steak. The wine was good though, but he couldn't afford the luxury of getting drunk, as John had a feeling he was going to need a clear head.

Brantum finished chewing, and pointed at the suit. "I knew Armani would suit you. My regular tailor is fine for the older gentlemen and corporate types, but not you. I guessed the Italian designer would be more your style."

"Thanks." John said it because it was expected, that, and he didn't want to rile Forant too soon. Yet regardless of what lay ahead, he couldn't contain his curiosity any longer. "Now we've finished eating, would you like to explain where I fit into your plans?"

The Ancient drew him a veiled look, and threw his napkin down on the table. "Very well, we should be nearly at our destination soon anyway."

"This thing has automatic pilot?" John asked, amazed.

"Of course! All gate ships have them. Just because it also happens to travel through time, makes little difference." Forant responded, looking slightly bemused he would ask such a question. John saw the Ancient check his bracelet, and noticed for the first time the multitude of buttons dotted around the device, but tore his eyes away when Forant looked up and gave Janus a nod. "One last drink before we go – John, a single malt for you?"

The question was rhetorical, as John was handed the glass of amber liquid. Forant then lent back against the chair and folded his arms. "Where to begin…Well it all started with you I suppose, or should I say the craft which came from your Atlantis and crashed in my time line." Forant said, and went on to explain. "We were getting ready to evacuate the city and both Janus – the man you met - and I, realised with your appearance came a chance for Atlantis to rise again. Up till then, I had no interest in his research, but upon finding you in the wreckage a plan came to mind." The Ancient took a moment to drain his glass before he continued. "Anyway, Janus was the altruistic one, and it soon became clear he held a torch for your Doctor Weir. I'm also aware you know it was mainly thanks to him, that Atlantis survived after the second time you arrived. However, what you don't know is Janus gave me his craft not just to preserve his research, but also to help me give our people a second chance of life."

The room was feeling uncomfortably warm, and John loosened his tie. "What do you mean?"

"Janus was aware that part of my research involved creating a viable clone. A being that would live a full life without the need for drugs to sustain it…"

"_Your_ Janus -" John interrupted, and glanced over at the man in question whose expression remained unfazed, despite being the topic of conversation.

"Very good, John, but you knew that already." Forant replied in a dismissive, slightly mocking tone. "Janus, however, is only the prototype for what I have planned. The vials you kindly obtained for me contain samples of DNA from every Ancient who lived on Atlantis, and I intend to repopulate the city with the people who truly belong there. More than that, my clones will be improved versions of the originals. Stronger, more intelligent, and best yet, they will be Pegasus' new deterrent against the Wraith."

John was feeling real tired, but perked up at the mention of Atlantis. "What about my people? And if you only wanted to use me as a delivery boy, then why am I still here?"

Forant accepted a refill from Janus, and took a sip from his glass. "They won't be harmed, John, I promise. The more intelligent amongst them like your friend Doctor McKay, will be allowed to remain if they wish. As for the others, they will be returned to Earth. Your role, John, is to be by my side. I want my grandson to lead the greatest army the galaxy has ever seen."

"You're delusional, Forant if you think I'd buy into that. I already lead a damned fine group of people!" John's brain was getting fuzzy, but he suddenly remembered something else Forant had said. "Anyway, what the hell is this deterrent?"

There were two Forant's now, floating in and out of his vision, and John realised he'd been drugged, but struggled to stay focused on both men as they spoke. "The transfusion you gave me apart from containing Ancient DNA, also had another unusual marker in it – Wraith. There was only a trace element, barely visible, except of course to my equipment, and much less than your friend Ms Emmagan, but it was all I needed to complete the serum I'd been working on. Your unique blood, was the key to providing all of the clones with something _extra_. Thanks to you, John, they will not only have an inbuilt defence, but they will also be the means of destroying the Wraith." John realised he must have looked puzzled, as Forant elaborated. "How it works is simple. If a Wraith feeds on one of our clones, instead of taking the life force from them, theirs instead is absorbed into the very being whose life they intended to take. To be precise, our army will become stronger, and more powerful after each feeding – ingenious, isn't it?"

"The…the Hoffan's…tried something…similar. It…ended…in…tragedy." John stammered, slurring his words.

The old man nodded, then rose from the table and came towards him. "I'm aware of their research but it was flawed, and completely different from what I have planned. With the expertise of the new Atlantians, more sophisticated weaponry can be built, and along with troops armed with your skills, we will seek out and destroy the Wraith for good. Surely you must agree that's what we all want?"

Forant grabbed his face and looked deep into his eyes. "You know you've been drugged, John. It was necessary to keep you docile, as I anticipated your initial reaction would be to refuse." Then he continued. "Nevertheless, I would still rather have you with me, so if you agree to co-operate willingly, I promise never to do anything like this again. Well? What's your final answer?"

Beads of sweat were blinding him, and his limbs felt heavy, sluggish and uncoordinated. Yet he still wanted to give a warning to the arrogant man. "Power...is… ad…addictive - It…it…co…rupts. Wha…what happens…when…u…succeed? Who's…next?"

Forant pushed back on his heels, and looked at him with a mixture of anger and remorse. "I'll take that as a no then," he said with a trace of regret, then turned to Janus. "Take him, and prepare him for the first part of the procedure." As the Ancient went to leave, he stopped and turned round to glance at John once more. "I'm sorry you won't co-operate with me, John, but you will help me - I'll just have to take what I need the hard way."

John couldn't resist when he felt the strong arms of Janus lift him, and throw him roughly over his shoulder. He knew he was in big trouble, but didn't regret the choice he'd made, although John realised he should be probably be more scared. Right now though, he was just too damn tired…

ooooOoooo

TBC

Now we know Forant's plan, but what does he have in store for John? Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please review.


	16. Chapter 16

Thanks for the reviews, as they mean a lot.

So the gloves are well and truly off now, and we finally know what Forant is up to. Question is, how is he going to get what he wants from John?

THE TIES THAT BIND

CHAPTER 16

The deep biting cold made him shiver, but as consciousness returned and the familiar dark, jagged stone walls came into view, the memory of overwhelming agony, along with the click, clack of high heels jolted John to complete awareness. He was back in the caves beneath Tynos. Jusana was dead, her withered corpse probably still lying next to her son's but John knew that Forant would be nearby, so he tried to flee. Except he couldn't move, and the cold, harsh feel of firm metal surrounding his neck, arms, wrists, thighs and ankles, confirmed he'd been restrained. He was naked too, covered only with a sheet, and for some weird reason that freaked him out more than anything.

There was a man with a big hammer pounding on his brain, and his mouth was dry. He hated drugs. They made him lethargic, but at least the fuzzy, cotton wool feeling had gone, and the adrenaline coursing through his veins was making short work of the remaining cobwebs. Restrained and helpless, he couldn't do a damn thing, but John forced himself to get a grip and suppress the panic rising in his chest, as he needed to focus, especially when he heard the sound of the familiar footsteps.

"I'm glad to see you're finally awake, how's the headache?" Forant had appeared by his side, but instead of wearing his usual three-piece suit, the Ancient was donned in green surgical scrubs.

"Sore…I don't suppose you have a couple of Tylenol?" John asked keeping his tone light, not willing to let Forant see his fear.

Forant didn't answer, and his expression remained impassive when John's flinched, as he forced in an IV. "I'm going to take some of your blood. I presume you don't mind, do you?"

"So it's going to be death by exsanguination, is it?" John peered up, trying to gauge Forant's reaction.

In response, the Ancient grabbed a stool and sat next to the table John was restrained to. "No my dear boy – you're much too valuable for that. At the moment, it's just a little blood I require, no more than a pint, but as you refused my generous offer, I've had to change my plans.'

Ignoring the pressure as his life force was drained away, John gave a wry smile "Really? I don't suppose you'd care to fill me in?"

"Certainly." Forant responed, and he went on to explain. "My clones are strong, intelligent, superior beings, but they lack the skill you've learned in the military. Books and DVDs can only teach so much, but instincts like yours and the experience you've gained are priceless, John. My army needs talents such as yours if it is to succeed."

"Wow! I never realised you were such an admirer," John whistled, "Do you want to go back and tell that to the brass who sent me to Antarctica?" John mocked, but Forant didn't look amused. "Anyway, seeing as I'm not exactly in a position to give lessons, how exactly do you aim to do that?" He pointed out raking his eyes down to the restraints.

Forant leaned back and folded his arms. "If you're reconsidering my offer, John, don't bother. As you Americans succinctly put it, that ship has sailed." The old man's expression then grew bitter. "Suffice it to say I have my methods, which you will discover as we go along."

His mind was racing, wondering what the hell was going to happen next, but John was more angry than afraid. With Forant watching, he was determined to keep a tight rein on his emotions, as it was pretty obvious the bastard was trying to wind him up. So he did what he usually did in these situations, the one thing that always unnerved the enemy, he smiled.

"By the way, for the record the answer is still no, but I think you've forgotten something _buddy_." John was furious, but he kept the smile pinned firmly on his face. "I've been missing for so long, my people will probably think I'm dead - well at any rate, they wouldn't accept my IDC even if I did manage to get home, so your invasion force will never get past the shields."

Forant smirked, and wagged his finger in front of John's face. "You really do need to stop underestimating me, John. To begin with, I never left a body so your friends will be running themselves ragged, trying to find you, clinging on to the hope you're still alive." Then the smile faded and Forant looked thoughtful. "Of course, there is a remote possibility that your Doctor McKay may have discovered one of the Trojans I planted, he is after all a resourceful man. Nevertheless, even if they have realised I'm behind your abduction, all I need for my plan to succeed is to get close enough to open communications with them."

Now it was John's turn to mock. "_Right…_ and I can just see that happening. After that last stunt you pulled, Woolsey wouldn't give you the time of day."

Forant nodded slowly. "Perhaps, but I know he'd want to speak to his missing Military Commander, and when he does, I'll be able to send a signal to a hidden trigger which will deactivate the shields."

"Bastard!" John was enraged at the man who was plotting to take over his home, and throw out his friends as if they were garbage. He was also angry at himself because if anyone got harmed, it would be his fault for getting caught.

Ignoring John's outburst, Forant continued, "In the meantime, John, after you give me what I want, I intend to break you."

John spluttered with laughter. "Yah think? Good luck with that - "

His face scarlet with rage, Forant thumped the table with his fist. "I don't need _luck_. I've studied prisoners subjected to prolonged spells of confinement. Years spent incarcerated can eventually bend a man's spirit, but in some of the harsher institutions I visited, I witnessed that men who'd been kept restrained during their sentence, not only become subdued, but positively docile in a remarkably short period of time. They were more than happy to take part in my experiments...Of course with a strong man like you I don't expect it to happen overnight, but it will happen - everyone has their breaking point. It's regrettable, John, that you will never stand by my side in the way I'd hoped, but in time you will be happy to serve me as a willing slave."

"Dream on – I would rather die first!" John spat out, and he cursed himself for losing it, but he was struggling to keep a lid on his emotions. His heart was racing, thudding so hard he could barely hear Forant's next response through the blood rushing through his ears.

Forant didn't look at him while he answered, too busy removing his _donation_, and replacing it with a clear bag of fluid. "And you seriously think I would allow that happen? Let me make it clear, John." He said, turning to face him. "Whatever punishment your body sustains in order to obtain my goal, I will repair. I need you alive, at least for the time being. At the moment it's your knowledge and blood I require. When the time comes that you outlive your usefulness, and I tire of your company, then I intend to put you in stasis. After all, even I can't live forever, and your young body will provide me with a valuable source of spare parts for a long time to come."

"Screw you!"

The old man gave him a sour look. "A coarse expression, but apt. However, on this occasion I believe it's you who is screwed…"

ooooOoooo

Meditation always calmed her inner turmoil, but with John still missing and Torren keeping her awake night after night, Teyla could barely think, let alone concentrate on the ritual involved. Constantly exhausted, she had been unable to provide little if any support to her team, something which pained her. As a mother though, her priority was clear, Torren would always come first, besides there was nothing she could do for her friend at the moment.

Kanaan had an important meeting in the morning, and as there was no point in both of them losing sleep, she picked up the crying child, and headed for her new refuge, the mess hall. At this time of night it was usually empty, and with no one to disturb, it relieved the pressure knowing Torren could shed his tears without causing others inconvenience.

Teyla saw Martha look over when she saw them approach. The older woman had been her saviour these past weeks. Martha's homely face always lit up when they arrived, as she went through the familiar routine of taking the sobbing child off her hands to allow her a few golden moments of peace. Tonight though there was someone else staring out at the view from their usual table.

"Good evening, Dave. Can't sleep either?" She asked, already knowing the reason why.

His exhaustion mirrored her own as his tired eyes flew open, surprised, as he clearly hadn't heard her approach. "Sorry…what was the question?" He asked, confused.

Teyla smiled softly "Don't worry, it was a stupid question anyway," When Dave still looked puzzled, she repeated it. "I asked if you couldn't sleep, but as you're here nursing a mug of Martha's hot chocolate…"

Now Dave returned her smile, but his eyes were sad. "Well, usually I lie awake beating myself up over what happened, but now I know it wasn't my fault, I don't even have that small _pleasure_ to enjoy." his smile faded and a tear glistened in his eye. "I have all this money, Teyla and I would pay any demand, give it all away - anything to get John home. But he's been kidnapped by a blasted 'Time Lord' for Pete's sake, and there's not a damn thing I can do to help."

Dave had been such a reclusive figure since he arrived, Teyla realised with shame that she had barely spoken to him. He was John's brother, but more than that, he was a friend in pain. For that reason alone, Teyla knew regardless of her own problems, she should have sought him out and been there for him.

The sound of the chair scraping the metal floor echoed in the near empty room as she pulled it towards her. Then she sat down, reached over, and took his hand.

"Unfortunately no one can help John at the moment." She said sadly. "Even a genius like Rodney is feeling useless, unable to do anything." Teyla knew Rodney wouldn't be amused at that description of himself. However if it made Dave feel better, she hoped her friend would forgive her.

Dave scrubbed a hand over his face, then changed the subject. "Is Torren still teething?"

Teyla leaned back on the chair, and took a long sip of hot milk before replying. "No, this week he has a cold," she informed him. "A lot of the Athosian children have had it, and I think Torren picked it up from his play date last week."

Dave nodded, and Teyla saw a cloud darken his expression."As a kid John used to pick up one bug after another." He told her. "Things were okay when mom was alive, but dad had no time for illness. He used to call John a weakling, and accused him of making it up to get out of going to school, he was wrong of course. Then one time John got real sick, but told no one, not even me, so we didn't know anything was wrong until he failed to come down for breakfast. I'll never forget that day…Dad ranted and raved then stormed up to his room, and minutes later he came down ashen faced, carrying John in his arms. He'd collapsed in the shower." Dave paused before he continued. "We nearly lost him that day to peritonitis, and I know dad never forgave himself, but he was a stubborn fool who lacked the courage to tell his own son how sorry he was. Later, when John came home from the hospital, he was a changed kid – harder, more determined, quieter around the house. Let's just say, things were never the same between them after that."

Teyla remembered all the times John had shrugged off illness and injury, telling everyone he was fine, when he clearly wasn't. Now she understood. "Well, that certainly explains a lot, Dave, and I think you should tell that story to Carson." she replied in a quiet voice.

Dave nodded, and drained the rest of his mug. "Think maybe I will." He said, then squeezed her hand, released it, and rose from the chair. "Thanks Teyla, I enjoyed the company."

"Are you going to try and get some sleep now?" She asked, as he started to walk away.

He shrugged, "I'll try, but probably not. Still, I'm not alone." Dave said, with a wry smile, "From all the bleary eyed people I've seen around this base, I don't think many of us will get a full night's rest until John comes home."

ooooOoooo

Voices wavered in an out of his consciousness. They were faint at first, only whispers echoing through a dense fog, but becoming louder, until Forant's insistent tone broke through as a cold hand patted his face.

John wanted to tell him to back off, but the noise which came out was choked, garbled. "Gah awummgh..."

"That's it John, it's time to come round." Forant coaxed him, though he sounded impatient. "You've had some surgery, nothing major. Just a small procedure - well several procedures actually, so it was more expedient to knock you out. Besides, I didn't have time to deal with your feeble resistance." The Ancient picked up a glass and pushed a straw into his mouth. "Now you'll need some water, but only take a sip."

John wanted to tell him where to stick it, but his throat felt raw, and the cold water helped douse the fire.

"Better?" Forant asked in an offhand manner without even looking at him, too interested in checking something out of his line of sight.

"Wha…what have you done?" He asked, trying to suppress the panic tightening his chest and threatening to choke him.

John could tell it was with reluctance, Forant dragged his eyes back from whatever he was checking to face him. "I've planted electrodes at various points inside your body." Forant informed him, clearly unconcerned when John's eye's flew open in alarm. "Their function is to monitor your reactions during the assessments I have planned. Except I need you conscious and alert for the last part of the procedure, as I have to assess your responses while I'm implanting the ones in your brain."

John tried to pull at the restrains but not even a finger could move, his body was completely frozen. He was living out his worst nightmare.

"You can stop worrying, John." Forant sounded bored. "The paralysis is only temporary as I need you completely still until I've finished, so relax as this won't take long and is completely painless. Once the anesthetic wears off there will be some lingering soreness and a slight headache for a few days, but, if you co-operate with me now, I'll give you that Tylenol you asked for earlier." Forant smiled, but it was a mean tight imposter of a smile, which didn't fool John for a second.

The Ancient moved from his sight but John heard him take up position behind him. He was freaking out, but unable to move there was no escape, he was completely under Forant's control. The screeching sound of the drill reverberated around the vast space and brought home just exactly what the bastard was doing, and while it didn't hurt, the knowledge of what was happening made the room seem to close in around him. Each vibration made him shudder, and the pressure of the drill bearing down made him nauseous. John knew he wasn't perfect – far from it. He had a lot of regrets, and there was a bunch of stuff he wasn't proud of, but surely he didn't deserve this? Forant was speaking, asking him a question but black spots were clouding his horizon, and he couldn't hear through the waves of terror fogging his brain - then there was a sharp piercing noise...

"Calm down, John, and don't be foolish." Forant scolded, in a bitter angry voice. "If you had accepted my offer none of this would have been necessary – you have only yourself to blame."

John had met some psycho's in his time, but no one as warped as this. Yet this man wasn't just any bad guy, he was his grandfather, so against his better judgment, John tried to reason with him. "Stop this. Can't you see what you're do...ing…is…is… wr…wr…ong?" John started to panic as his voice got deeper, then started to stutter before it tailed off and disappeared altogether.

"Oop's - sorry, John. I went a little too far to the left." Forant said in a matter of fact tone, "Wait a minute… that's it, I think I've got it in the right position now. Say something for me - anything will do."

"Go to hell!"

ooooOoooo

TBC

Is it the right thing to say I hope you enjoyed that? But please review anyway, as I really like to know what you think.


	17. Chapter 17

Thanks so much for the great feed back, I'm delighted you're enjoying the story.

As for Forant, now we know what he'd capable of, what's next in store for John?

THE TIES THAT BIND

CHAPTER 17

He hurt all over.

Each small incision wasn't bad on its own, but the collective ache made him miserable. Restrained hand and foot only increased the agony, but nothing compared to the headache from hell.

John knew Forant had something stronger than Tylenol in his arsenal, but the Ancient chose to withhold the good stuff, probably as payback for speaking his mind. Despite his pain, John wasn't sorry for one single thing he'd said. The only thing he did regret was not killing the sadistic bastard after the first time they'd met.

He winced and swore under his breath as he awkwardly shuffled onto his other side. With hands cuffed behind his back and ankles shackled together by a thick chain, the normally simple motion left him drenched in sweat and completely drained. The metal cuffs, moulded to his wrists and ankles restricting his movement, were similar to the bracelet he'd once worn. Except unlike last time, he couldn't simply think them off. They were a clever device, as once activated a bar of metal shot out from one and attached onto its neighbor, instantly forming a linked chain. It's length determined by the man holding the control, Forant, but in his case it wasn't much, as the Ancient had severely restricted his movement, leaving just a couple of inches between his wrists, and no more than ten between his ankles.

Shit happened in life, something John accepted and understood, but he wondered why the hell it always happened to him? He considered himself a reasonable guy, and was happy to take the rough with the smooth, but for the past few years it seemed all he'd done was lurch from one disaster to another. John knew he was whining like McKay but he was weary of it all, both emotionally and physically exhausted by the constant drama that followed him around like a bad smell.

From his narrow bunk, John could see the dark, scarlet stain on the wall where he'd smashed his fist the last time he was in this room. The cold, dank cell just as he remembered, apart from a couple of home _improvements._ The décor was still the same, dark ragged stone, and if Forant had installed heating, it didn't reach this far. It did however have bright neon lights which stayed on 24/7, and a force field to prevent him from shuffling to freedom. A real waste of time, complete and utter overkill, as with this level of restraint, and completely exhausted from lack of sleep, he couldn't move more that a few feet without help.

The Ancient hadn't waited for the anesthetic to wear off before carrying out his threat. He'd restrained him, fitted him with a catheter to take away control of his basic functions, and left him with nothing but a surgical gown to wear. It was humiliating treatment designed to punish and control, but John was determined to remain strong. Forant may have stolen his dignity, but he would never break his spirit.

"Time to eat, Sheppard." John realised he must have zoned out for a moment, as Janus was standing there looking down at him with amusement. He was kinda relieved the clone had stopped using his given name, as somehow, it was much more honest.

Janus bent down and grabbed him roughly under the arm, and John yelped as the sharp motion pulled on his sutures. "Did I hurt you, Sheppard? So, sorry…" Janus smirked, and proceeded to haul him the rest of the way to his feet.

John was down but he wasn't out, and he sure as hell wasn't going to let Janus know how much he'd hurt him, so he returned the smirk. "And I thought clones didn't have a sense of humor?"

Janus scowled, and muttered something under his breath as he pulled him out the room, and began dragging him through the uncomfortably familiar corridors.

"What, no comeback?" John asked, enjoying his small act of rebellion right up until Janus let go of his arm and tripped him, making him fall flat on his face.

"Not laughing now are you, Sheppard?" Janus sneered. "Pity, I thought it was funny." The clone then glared at him, before yanking him to his feet.

Blood was dripping into his eyes from a gash on his head, and he could taste its sharp metallic flavor as he rubbed his tongue over his split lip. Already in pain before, now he was in agony. Every part of his body ached, and by the time Janus heaved him to where Forant was waiting, John was so woozy he could hardly focus.

"Good even - What happened to him?" Forant rounded on Janus, his eyes as hard as ice when he took in John's bloody face and ripped knees.

The smile vanished from Janus' face. "He tripped."

"Did he now?" Forant rose from the table, came over and tilted John's chin, examining his face. "Well you'd better be more careful in future," he said, turning an angry face to Janus, "because although my grandson has fallen out of grace, he is still essential to my plans. Do you understand?"

Even if the clone didn't, John certainly did, as he could tell the old guy was pissed by his clipped, icy tone.

"I'm sorry, it won't happen again." Janus' face flushed as he mumbled, but John could tell just how unrepentant he was, by the increased pressure as the clones strong fingers dug painfully into his arms.

Forant let go of his face then nodded to Janus, "Now help him _carefully_ onto the chair, then go and get my bag."

The fog was clearing, leaving behind a throbbing face and stinging knees to join his other aches, and John slowly became aware he was sitting at a table prepared for dinner.

"I'm sorry about that, John. Janus sometimes gets a little…zealous. How are you feeling?" Forant asked, checking his vitals while he talked.

John didn't want to give Forant the satisfaction of knowing how much pain he was in, but he wasn't going to lie either. "How do ya think?"

Forant's face clouded over, and his expression became unfathomable. "Sore, I would imagine, but your wounds will be fully healed by tomorrow, and even your head should feel better by then. The damage caused by the fall is relatively minor, but given the knock to your head I'll give you something stronger for the pain once you've had something to eat." Fornant replied as if he were reciting a grocery list, without a trace of compassion, or regret.

Shortly after Janus' return, Forant made quick work of patching him up, then his chair was pushed in close against the table. John's stomach was growling, and there was an assortment of hot dishes on display, all of which made his mouth water, but Forant hadn't released his hands, so he was forced to watch while the two men started to eat their fill. After a few minutes of being ignored, it didn't take long for John to realise what the next part of Forant's heartless plan was.

"What would you like, John?" Forant suddenly asked, as he lifted a clean plate preparing to fill it. "There's steak, eggs – I believe you like them scrambled?" John wondered how he knew that, as Forant went to lift a spoonful, "or if you'd prefer, there's pepperoni pizza. But personally, I think you need more than junk food to keep up your strength."

"What I'd like…is to help myself." John caught his gaze and their eyes locked in complete understanding.

Forant dropped the spoon and the sound as it hit the side of the metal bowl, reverberated around the cavernous room. "Well that's not going to happen, John. In case I didn't make myself clear yesterday, you will remain restrained at all times until you are prepared to submit to my will. In the meantime if you don't accept food from my hand, the only thing you'll be offered are liquid nutrients." Forant waited for a moment, but when John gave him a dirty look, he placed a bag of brown liquid with a straw in front of him, then resumed his seat. He then loaded up his fork, looked over and gave him a grim smile. "Enjoy your meal."

The brown goo was sickly sweet, and stuck to the roof of his mouth. It tasted disgusting, but John choked it down while keeping his face expressionless, his eyes averted, refusing to give Forant the satisfaction he craved.

John hated him – loathed the bastard with every fibre of his being. He knew he was screwed as even if Atlantis had figured out Forant had taken him, there was no hope of rescue as they wouldn't know where, or _when_ he was. This far underground, hidden in a myriad of tunnels, escape would be problematic at best, but restrained, even the slim hope he could thwart Forant's plans, by taking his own life, was denied him. All he had left was his anger to keep him focused. He just hoped it would be enough to stop Forant from breaking him.

"Not hungry, John?" Forant asked, wearing a smug expression. "If you keep this up, I can see I'll have to insert a feeding tube."

John ignored the threat, and glared at both Janus then Forant in turn. "What the hell do you expect? My head is splitting and I feel nauseous – Frankenstein here has given me a concussion. So…no, I don't really feel like eating much!"

It was only partly a lie, as his head was thumping and he did feel slightly dizzy, but it wasn't a concussion. John had had enough of those in his life to know his nausea on this occasion was solely due to the glop, that had sunk like a stone to the pit of his stomach. However his distraction did the trick, as Forant was up on his feet, looking concerned.

"Let me have another look." Forant mumbled as he shone the penlight into his eyes. John flinched. "Your pupils don't look dilated, but it could be the pain causing the nausea. Janus…" He turned to the clone, "Take John down to the lab and make him comfortable. I'll be following behind."

John saw Janus give Forant a sharp look, before pushing away his half eaten meal, and coming to help him out the chair and slowly down the corridor. He really did feel like crap by now as his shaking legs made each step arduous, and it was only Janus' strong grip that was keeping him on his feet. The world was spinning, and John started to wonder if he'd got the concussion thing wrong, as he felt fit to drop by the time they got to the lab. For a brief moment he tasted freedom when his hands fell by his side. Not for long though, as Janus dumped him on the table then quickly replaced one set of restrains for another, as John felt his wrists and ankles bound to the table.

Soon afterwards Forant appeared, and without acknowledging his presence, carried out a few more tests. John felt like a lab rat as the Ancient wandered round him, prodding, sticking him with needles, and taking yet more blood. Normally it would have bothered him, but right now he didn't feel well, and all John wanted was for the fucking vampire to finish, and leave him to suffer in peace.

The Ancient disappeared for a few moments, and John was beginning to wonder what was coming next, when he felt the sting of a needle in the crook of his arm. For once though his fears were unfounded, and he could have cried with relief as the pain gradually started to ease.

"Feeling better now?" Forant asked, and he was, so John reluctantly nodded in response. Whatever was in that shot was doing the business, and even with the oppressive restraints, he felt himself start to drift...

The Ancient grabbed a seat, and waited until John's breathing became steady and his eyes closed, before he bent down to whisper in his ear. "Sleep well John and regain your strength. Tomorrow is going to be a very busy day…"

ooooOoooo

A genius like him should've been able to solve any problem, but Rodney felt like a high school drop out compared to the intellect of Brantum Forant.

The sad, disappointing and humiliating truth was, if it hadn't been for the sign John left behind, he would still have been completely clueless. He didn't like someone running rings around him, and it had only happened once before, aged eight, when Jamie McClelland beat him in the science fair. To this day, Rodney believed the snot nosed weasel had cheated, beating him out the park by presenting an impressive papier-mâché volcano with real flames. The guy's dad had been an engineer, so no big surprised who'd really built it, still, it only made Rodney all the more determined to win next time. Which he had, and every year afterwards until he eventually left home for University.

Rodney didn't need to look at the star studded sky to know it was late, but although he was exhausted, he was way too hyper to sleep. Back in his quarters were pills that would send him to oblivion, but he needed to remain focused, besides, work was the only thing keeping him sane. He knew Carson was only looking out for him, but he couldn't rest, and didn't want to, not with Sheppard still missing. Rodney felt like a failure for not being able to find him, the only comforting thought - John wasn't dead. How was he so sure? Two reasons. The first, many weeks had passed since his friends abduction and they still hadn't found a body. The second, Rodney knew Forant had captured John for a reason.

He was relieved Sheppard was alive, they all were, but as they now knew it was Forant behind the abduction, it raised some interesting questions. If Forant had intended keeping John as his unwilling companion, Rodney reckoned the Ancient would have left a corpse to cover his tracks. The fact he hadn't, meant only one thing - he intended John to reappear at some stage. Forant was planning something, and he was pretty sure it concerned Atlantis, but what? Like everything else these days, Rodney was completely in the dark.

The lab was deserted at this time of night, and as he refilled his cup Rodney felt his eyes unwillingly drawn to the locked cabinet at the end of the room. With a shaking hand he put down the coffee pot with such force it spilled over, scalding his hand in the process. He muttered an obscenity as he placed his burnt digits under the cold tap, but still he couldn't look away. In the weeks after they'd left Tynos he'd run tests on the bracelet. Yet he'd discovered nothing new, apart from his suspicion that the device was attuned to Sheppard's DNA. However, he hadn't been able to look at it since.

Almost as if it was calling to him, he went over, retrieved the key and opened Pandora's Box. With a pair of forceps he held it up to the light…

"I didn't really think jewelry was your style, Rodney" A familiar voice quipped from the doorway.

Rodney jumped with surprise and the damn thing fell, clanking on the floor. For a moment he could only watch helpless as it spun towards Dave, then with horror, he saw the older Sheppard about to pick it up.

"Don't touch it!" Rodney shouted with such force, Dave backed off looking stunned.

In the blink of an eye, Dave's expression had changed from one of amusement, to confusion and hurt. "What the hell is that?"

"Nothing -" Rodney said, as he reached down, retrieved it, then locked it back in the cabinet. When he turned round and saw Dave looking suspicious, Rodney knew he would need to give some explanation. "Okay, it's a _something,_ but it's a really dangerous something. I'm sorry for yelling at you, Dave, but I just didn't want you getting hurt, that's all."

"What does it do?" Dave asked, and Rodney inwardly groaned as it was clear he was just like his brother. He just wouldn't let things lie.

"Let's just say, it's been responsible for the death of two men." Rodney told him. It was only partially a lie, as Marcen would have died from its effects, if he hadn't taken a bullet first.

The atmosphere was uncomfortable for a moment, as both men looked everywhere, except at each other. Then Dave spoke. "Anyway, I just came to see if you wanted to get a bite to eat." He said, sounding a little sheepish. "Ronon is working out in the gym and Teyla has just managed to get Torren down."

"So…I'm your last resort am I?" Rodney drew him a hurt look.

Dave started to splutter and his face went scarlet. "No - hell, no! I didn't mean it like that. It's just, well, I like hanging out with you guys, you're like family. Besides, I haven't spoken to you in days." The usually confident man sounded slightly uncertain, as his voice trailed away.

Rodney knew he'd been a bit harsh, but also accepted he probably was Dave's last choice. Which if he was honest, was his fault, not Dave's, as he'd been so busy, he'd barely made time for John's brother since the guy returned to Atlantis. It was time to rectify that. "Well in which case, let's go…but you're buying."

ooooOoooo

TBC

Things are really not looking good for John, and what does Forant have planned next? That answer will be in the next chapter.

In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed this one, and please review.


	18. Chapter 18

Thanks again to those who reviewed, and the alerts.

Now on with the story…

THE TIES THAT BIND

CHAPTER 18

John was afraid.

He knew that some would be surprised, those who believed he had nerves of steel, but they couldn't have been more wrong. It was fear that had kept him alive up till now, and the raw throbbing emotion was necessary to heighten the senses, keeping you sharp, but more important – it kept you alive. Now however, it was just making him antsy. His fight or flight response was in full flow, but he couldn't move, and the loud, pulsating sound of the blood roaring through his ears was driving him nuts.

Despite the surgery he endured only days before, the pain was completely gone. There was no question Forant was a brilliant man, and not for the first time John wished the Ancient was one of the good guys, because his contribution to every field of science would have been awesome. Yet John was only too aware his improved condition could mean only one thing – the mystery of the sensors implanted in his body, would soon be revealed.

The lab was shrouded in darkness, but as the light switched on, John knew someone had entered the room. A moment later Janus appeared with a tray, breakfast.

He was starving, and without the neck brace this time, John could see a bowl of cereal, and the brown bag of liquid lying on the tray. Janus set it down on the stand beside the bed, then activated a control attached to the side. Suddenly, John could feel his body move, as the bed slowly turned into a reclining chair.

"What's it to be, Sheppard?" Janus nodded to the tray, tapping the spoon against the bowl, looking impatient.

The nausea had gone, but John didn't know if he could stomach anymore of the revolting goo, nevertheless, he would refuse to take anything if Forant was the one feeding him. "Where's Forant? Or is it you who's doing the honors today?" He asked, keeping his tone light so as not to make the question appear too pointed.

"Yes, it's me. Father's busy, now hurry up and make up your mind, or they'll both go." Janus stood staring at him, with his arms crossed.

Now he had a dilemma. John wasn't crazy about anyone feeding him, least of all a badass clone, but as Janus couldn't help the way he'd been made, John was prepared to stretch a point. Besides, he was hungry. "The cereal."

It was obvious that Janus deliberately dribbled the milk over his chin, the drops sticking to his face and chest, but John didn't care – it was wonderful. The simple meal of cornflakes tasted like manna from heaven, better than the best T-bone he'd ever had. Then it was finished, barely filling a hole, but the traditional breakfast rekindled memories of sitting down with his team, watching the sunrise break on a new day, while sharing food and of course, a little snark. He missed them, all of them, and wondered whether he would ever see his friends again…

Janus was helping him drink some water, but he nearly choked when he saw Forant enter the room. John knew this was it, his brief respite was over, and he wondered what the hell was coming next.

"Morning, John." He didn't respond, but it was obvious Forant wasn't expecting one, as he came and started checking him over. After a moment he stopped, and caught his gaze. "Good. I can see that you're fully healed, so we can now proceed."

"Proceed with what exactly?" John asked keeping his voice strong, but already he could feel his mouth go dry.

Forant moved out of sight, but continued talking loud enough so that John could hear him. "Well, John, I'm going to take you on a journey down memory lane - as it were. I've accessed all your mission reports and have cherry picked the ones which I want you to revisit."

"Okay…now you've lost me." John interrupted, confused. "I'm not on your time machine now, so how can I _revisit_ anywhere?"

The Ancient then appeared beside him with a strange looking piece of head gear, attached to a dark visor. "That, my dear boy, is where the sensors come in. I will activate them to a specific date and time, and you will relive the experience. On this occasion though, every emotion, reflex and pain, will be recorded."

John remembered only too well every mission he'd been on, especially the bad ones, and he really, really, didn't want to repeat those suckers. "I've got a better idea," he said, trying to wangle out of it, "Why don't you just ask me how I felt? Then you don't need to go to all this hassle?"

"It's no _hassle_, John, although I thought I'd already explained it." Forant's expression was derisive, and John would have knocked him flat on his boney ass if he wasn't restrained. "The way it works is this. I have programmed the missions that reflect the best of your military talent, into this machine. Each time it's activated, the sensors in your brain will spark off the memory and you will relive the mission as if it were the first time. I want to find out how your mind works, John, the way your brain and body responses to danger and stress. How it reacts when making decisions and formulating strategies. In other words, I intend to analyse every reaction you make to find out what makes you the brilliant leader you are. Then, I intend implanting those skills into my army of clones."

Drenched with sweat, John could feel his thin cotton gown sticking to the chair, and beads were trickling down his face. He couldn't let Forant get away with this, but how was he going to stop him? Then something dawned on him. "No matter how much you soup them up, clones are basically flesh and blood, and can only retain so much information – you've done something to their brain, haven't you?" He asked, but had a horrible feeling he already knew the answer.

A tight smile grew on Forant's lips. "Very good, John." He replied. "You are of course correct. Instead of an organic brain, they have a processor which will be downloaded with the information you provide," Then the old man's smile faded, and for a moment his expression became almost remorseful. "I'm truly sorry you didn't want to be a part of this, as a fine leader like you could have taught them so much more. Nevertheless, even without your co-operation, the reactions I glean from your memories combined with their superior physical abilities, will make them the best, most impressive force the galaxy has ever seen."

John could feel his body move, as the chair became a table and he was once again lying on his back. His mouth was so dry he could hardly speak, but he tried to buy some time. "Where are the clones? I haven't seen any of them roaming around." he asked. John also wanted to know because he intended to destroy every last one of them, when, or if, he ever got the chance.

Unfortunately the Ancient seemed to be tiring of the conversation, as he went out of eye shot again then moments later John could feel every nerve ending in his body start to tingle.

"Their pods are scattered throughout the caves." Forant shouted from behind him. "Most are still growing, although some are nearly ready and waiting to be hatched. They will however remain in that state until I get everything I need from you." Forant's voice trailed away, and John wondered where the hell he'd got to, when he saw the bastard suddenly appear by his side. He was given no warning as the device was placed over his head. "Enough conversation, John, now we begin…"

ooooOoooo

John Sheppard was a stubborn, insolent and foolish young man, but Forant admired his bravery.

John's face had paled beneath the visor, and his body twitched in controlled convulsions. His blood pressure had also risen, but as it was still within the parameters he'd set, Forant allowed the memory to continue. He wasn't interested in the missions where John had saved others. Colonel Sheppard the hero, the man who defended the innocent was no use to him. Forant wanted the other John, the warrior who'd taken life without hesitation, or used guile and deception to defeat the enemy. Those were the missions he'd chosen, as those were the skills he wanted his army to have.

Occasionally John would cry out, shouting orders to an unseen team, but sometimes they were grunts of rage - or pain. The reflections on the outside of John's visor were vague, but Forant could see the memory unfold crystal clear on his monitor. It was better than watching many of the movies he'd seen, as this was no John McLean. This was a real man, his grandson, fighting battles with the Wraith, and now an invasion force which had once invaded Atlantis.

Forant went to check on Janus, who was lying at the back of the lab, out of John's sight, receiving each response that his grandson produced. Janus was his prototype, the means to test what was learned before it was passed to the others. He too was wearing a visor but his movements were less abrupt, mainly because they were not his memories, that, and he was stronger than John, more able to bear the strain.

A movement on the screen, made Forant turn around. The large man, Kolya, was looking at the Stargate with rage as John had just killed fifty-five of his men. It excited him, for that was what he wanted his soldiers to be - ruthless. Yet it also made him confused, because if John could take so many lives without hesitation, then why didn't he want to join him? Forant couldn't understand.

He sat at his desk watching as the monitor went black as one memory faded and led to another. This time John was alone in the desert fighting a Wraith. Forant could tell this was no ordinary Wraith, as the being was stronger, more powerful than any he had ever seen. For a while the monster held the upper hand as John was shot, then later, was thrown high into the air, not once but twice. He heard John yelp, and his blood pressure rose alarmingly. For a moment Forant wondered if he should stop, then the images disappeared.

For a few tense minutes he waited until John's pressure slowly reduced to a safer level, then after some deliberation, decided to carry on with one final procedure for the day. Forant knew what was coming, and watched the monitors closely, both fascinated by what was to come, but also prepared to intervene if necessary. This time John wasn't in battle, at least not in the conventional sense. He'd chosen this memory because he wanted to know how John had survived, and why he'd chosen to forge a relationship with a Wraith. More than anything, Forant wanted to know, why, after John escaped, his grandson had allowed the monster to live.

On the screen Forant could see John tied to the chair, and he followed his eyes as the Wraith entered the room. John looked afraid, but who wouldn't, and Forant shivered as he watched the beast feed and his grandson scream into the gag. Then he heard a blood curdling noise - it was John, screaming for real. The resounding echo filled the room with terror, it was a horrific sound, feral, filled with pain. Then he heard the alarm blare.

It's piercing echo reverberated around the lab and he could hardly bear the noise. Forant rushed to John's side to find him deathly still, and was shocked at the blood pouring from his wrists where he'd struggled against the metal restraints. Then his own blood turned cold as he saw the ragged hole in John's arm, and the raw feeding mark on his chest…

He couldn't believe what he was seeing, and started to panic. Forant didn't understand as the machine was only supposed to capture the memories, and leave John with no more than a headache, or perhaps some residual soreness from the convulsions. With a shaking hand he nervously reached for the visor, and was horrified to discover John's dark hair now streaked with grey, and his once youthful face now lined with wrinkles.

Forant ran for the scanner and waited impatiently for it to do its work. The results were just as he feared. John's body had suffered through each of the memories. He had several cracked ribs, a bullet wound in his arm, and deep bruising all over his body. He had also once again, been fed on by a Wraith. It wasn't just his mind that had relived the missions, his body had too.

John's breathing was shallow, but fortunately he was still alive, so remembering Janus, Forant went to check on how the clone had been affected by the experience. Unlike John, his vitals were better than before, stronger, and Forant was pleased to see at least this part of his plan had worked. In a way it was ironic, as Janus had taken the life-force from the Wraith, while John had suffered the agony. When he removed the visor to find the clone unconscious, but no older than he'd been before, Forant let go a sigh of relief.

His grandson would heal, but Forant knew he daren't expose him to any further sessions, until he'd worked out what had gone so badly wrong. It was inconvenient, as his plans would need to be put on hold while he went back to work. Still, this plan had been a long time in the making, so Forant consoled himself that a little longer wouldn't matter, in any case he had no choice but to be patient.

ooooOoooo

Ronon was bored. Back on base there were rookies waiting to be trained, but instead he was on Tynos, playing nursemaid to McKay, who was running around like a headless gruant.

Why? Well, McKay of all people had a hunch. That was usually his thing, or Sheppard's, not like the geek at all. Rodney said he wanted to check something out, and that he'd be okay on his own, but Ronon had already lost one friend, besides, he could tell the guy was wired and needed watching.

"I was sorry to hear about Dr Weir," Hollena said as she led them along the familiar corridor. "She was a fine leader, but more than that she also possessed a beautiful spirit, I liked her tremendously."

Ronon shared a look with McKay, and swallowed a lump in his throat. He missed Weir, they all did, but the moment soon passed, when they arrived in front of Forant's old lab. Rodney was as white as a sheet, and Ronon knew it wasn't just because they'd remembered a fallen friend. He didn't blame the guy, as being back here must be freaking him out. The last time they'd come, John was at death's door, and Rodney had been searching for answers to remove the bracelet which could have taken his life, so it was no wonder his little buddy looked nervous.

"Please, gentlemen, feel free to look around and take whatever you think would be of help." Hollena removed the heavy padlock and opened the door wide, ushering them inside.

McKay barged past him and into the room, but stopped dead in his tracks at the picture of Forant. It was spooky, as the guy in the frame looked just like his friend. Ronon could only make out one difference, Forant, both young and the older version, possessed a cold, mean streak in the hazel eyes.

Rodney eventually dragged himself away, and Ronon waited with his arms crossed, slumped against the wall, while the scientist looked around.

"Have you altered this room in any way?" McKay asked Hollena.

The pretty blonde looked puzzled, as she came to stand beside him. "No. In fact no one has been down here, since you last came."

McKay scratched his head. "I dunno, maybe it's my imagination, but the room seems a little smaller…"

Rodney's voice faded away as he went towards the right wall and started moving his palm along the surface. All of a sudden Ronon saw a flash of static, and McKay jumped back, shaking his hand.

"Shit! It's a force field of some kind, but it's been made to look like a wall. There must be some way to deactivate it." Rodney muttered, still nursing his hand as he turned to his team mate. "Ronon, would you get me something from the jumper? My tools are in a box under the co-pilot's seat."

"Sure…will you be okay?" Ronon asked, not happy about leaving the geek behind.

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Of course! I'm not wearing a life sucking bracelet this time, and it's just me and Hollena here. Go, but don't take too long. I want to know what's behind here."

Ronon grunted, and shot him a disgruntled look at being dismissed, but left anyway. He had a bad feeling about this, but couldn't say why. Still, Sheppard's disappearance had gotten to everyone, so he reckoned it was just that making him more spooked than usual.

ooooOoooo

Rodney was a man of science and it wasn't like him to follow a hunch. The only thing his gut usually told him was when it was time to eat, or maybe when he got indigestion. Now he knew the sick feeling he'd had since looking at the bracelet told him he'd been right. He was sure this wall hadn't been there the last time, which meant only one thing - Forant had been back.

"Excuse me, Doctor McKay, would this help?" Hollena passed him a small rectangular box, and when it was opened, Rodney eyes flew open in delight at the set of small hand operated scanners nestled inside. "These belonged to Forant, one of the few useful things he left behind." Hollena explained, smiling.

"Perfect." Rodney stared at the treasures for a moment, desperate to try them all out. He hoped Hollena meant what she'd said about taking whatever he liked, because he really wanted these. Right now though there was a mystery to solve, so he chose the most likely device, similar to the one he used in Atlantis and scanned it around the entire surface of the wall. It didn't take long before there was a fizz and a flash and the wall disappeared to reveal a very well equipped, and obviously still operation lab lying beyond.

"I knew nothing about this. Do you think this could have been here the last time you came?" Hollena stammered, her beautiful features filled with confusion.

Rodney ran a shaking hand through his hair, and shrugged. "I was hoping you could tell me." Then something dawned on him, and he turned to face her. "C'mon, do you mean to say that Forant could have been working here for months, or even years, and none of you guys heard anything?"

Hollena shook her head. "Not a sound. As I said before, Doctor McKay, no one has been down here in years."

Rodney wandered around the lab in wonder. In many respects it was similar to the labs on Atlantis, as there were bits and pieces of tech he recognised, but somehow it was just…different. In addition, there was a strange bit of head gear attached to a visor which looked like a work in progress.

"Look out, Doctor McKay – Forant's behind you!"

He heard Hollena shout in alarm and turned just in time to hear the gun fire and see Forant's furious expression, before he watched in surprise as a patch of red appeared on his jacket. Then he gasped, as a sharp, fiery pain exploded in his shoulder. As if in slow motion the floor came to meet him, and Rodney could only lie helpless as his world became an agonising place.

Blaster fire and Ronon's yell brought him back to awareness, then there was shuffling behind him, and Hollena was there holding his hand.

Already shrouded in pain, he yelped as Ronon pressing a field dressing to his wound. "Sorry, buddy, but I have to stop the bleeding." He saw the fear in Ronon's eyes, and wondered what had happened to make the big guy so afraid. "C'mon, McKay, you've got to hang on, I've called Atlantis and help is on the way."

He tried to answer, but the words wouldn't come. Rodney felt weird, almost like he was floating above the clouds. Then John was there, grinning at him with that crooked smile, and he was desperate to ask him where he was, but his friend just turned, gave him a mock salute and disappeared. He was shivering, so cold, but the fire in his shoulder was getting hotter with every breath. Ronon was speaking to him, yelling, telling him not to give up, and he didn't want to, but it was so much easier to close his eyes...

ooooOoooo

TBC

Please review, your comments mean a lot to me, and keep me motivated to keep the final edits coming!


	19. Chapter 19

Thanks again to those who reviewed - I appreciate it. I'm sorry for leaving you on a cliffy, but the edits and RL caught up with me at the weekend.

As for the story - well, we left both the guys in quite a state, so what's next?

THE TIES THAT BIND

CHAPTER 19

"I shouldn't have left him." Ronon growled. "Why the hell couldn't he have waited till I got back?" the Satedan's voice was laden with guilt, and Dave saw him about to slam his fist into the wall, when Teyla stepped forward and grabbed his arm.

"How is he?" Dave asked, and for a moment his question seemed to hang in the air, as the two turned around, looking surprised to find him standing there.

Teyla answered. "Rodney's still in surgery…"

"Actually, love, he's in recovery now." Carson appeared and dragged off his cap before scrubbing a hand over his face. His exhaustion evident, in the stoop of his shoulders and blood-shot eyes.

Ronon stood with his arms folded, anxiety written all over his face. "Is he going to be okay?"

Carson nodded. "He'd lost a lot of blood, which we replaced, and the bullet fractured his shoulder, but with rest then some physical therapy, I expect him to make a complete recovery."

Teyla nodded, and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "How is Jennifer dealing with all of this? She must have been worried."

Beckett gave a sad smile. "Yes she was, still is - he is her boyfriend after all. But, the lass is a doctor so she knows the score. Under the circumstances, I insisted on taking the lead in the surgery, but she's sitting with him now." Carson's expression turned from one of concern to anger, when he turned to Ronon. "Did you get him, son? Did you shoot the bastard?"

If Ronon was surprised at the normally mild-mannered doctor's rage, he didn't show it. "Think I winged him…can't be sure though. He disappeared through that freaking forcefield just after I got the shot off."

"Well, I hope so, because that bloody toerag deserves a taste of his own medicine." Beckett ranted, then went quiet for a minute before he muttered. "At least with Forant in Tynos, we now have an idea where Colonel Sheppard could be. Of course, even if he is in the caves, how we're going to get him back is problematic."

"Give me the bracelet so I can check it out." Ronon marched up to Beckett and towered over him.

Dave noticed the Scot didn't give an inch, and matched the determined look with one of his own. "I'm sorry, son, but that's not going to happen." He told him in a firm manner. "You know as well as I do, that damn thing caused the death of one man, and would most likely have killed Rodney, if Colonel Sheppard hadn't managed to remove it. Anyway, even if you did manage to get down there, there's no guarantee that's where Forant has taken him."

His heart was racing, and he could hardly believe what he was hearing. They were talking about his brother, giving him hope one minute, and taking it away the next. Then he realised they'd forgotten he was there. "What are you talking about? Where's John, and why can't you use this bracelet to save him? I don't understand…"

Carson's face went beetroot and the room went deathly quiet, as everyone turned to face him. Then the penny dropped, as he remembered what happened the night he visited Rodney in the lab. "Forget it. I'm only the new guy here, and I'm sure you know what you're doing." He responded keeping the frustration out of his voice, but already deciding what he was going to do.

Dave turned and walked away, ignoring Teyla as she called after him, marching towards the transporter before anyone could stop him. He then rushed down the corridor straight to McKay's lab. It was empty, apart from Radek who glanced up when he walked in.

"Have you heard how Rodney is?" The Czech asked, while wiping his spectacles with a cloth.

"His shoulder's broken, but Carson says he's going to be okay." Dave replied while his eyes darted around, trying to remember where Rodney put the key. Radek looked at him strangely while he searched, but after a few moments, Dave realised he'd have to hurry as he heard the familiar Scottish brogue coming down the hall.

"Can I help you, Dave?" The Czech asked, sounding suspicious.

"Do you mind if I borrow this, Radek?" Dave asked, but didn't wait for an answer, as he took a large screwdriver off the shelf and forced it into the locked cabinet several times before the lid sprang open.

"Stop, don't do this! The Colonel wouldn't want you -" Radek ran over and tried to pull him away, but Dave pushed him aside, accidentally knocking him onto his ass.

"Sorry, Radek, but I want my brother back." Dave took the bracelet in his hand. He held it for a moment, examining it, watching as the shiny metal glimmered the light as he remembered Rodney's words _"Let's just say, it's been responsible for the death of two men…"_ Then before he could change his mind, he slipped it on.

"Oh, no, son – what the hell have you done." He turned to see Carson standing there, with Ronon and Teyla beside him.

Dave could already feel the soft hum vibrating through his wrist, and suddenly realised the implications of his impulsive act. It was too late to turn back now, even if he wanted to. "Right, tell me how I get this damn thing to take me to John."

ooooOoooo

Tears sprang to his eyes, but not from the pain. John had spent so long putting the events of that day behind him, he was struggling to deal with it all over again. To endure it once had been horrific, let alone the four occasions Todd had fed upon him. Yet he'd eventually managed to put it behind him, kept his feelings hidden, and had gradually learned, if not to forget, then at least to be able to cope with the nightmares.

Through the visor, John had known what was coming, but couldn't stop it. In one brief moment, Forant had ripped open the barely healing wound, and now he was back to square one. None of those missions were good memories, but what he hadn't expected was to relive the physical pain. Now he was in agony, his ribs, arm, but worse of all the deep searing pain from the feeding mark on his chest. John could scarcely get a breath, but this time, there was no happy juice to dull the pain.

He was still restrained, so didn't know if he was alone, when he heard someone coming into the room. It was Forant, and the old man had been shot. John instantly recognised from the familiar dark discoloration on his jacket what type of weapon had caused the damage, and smiled.

"So had a run in with my friend Ronon did you?" John smirked, and winced as the small movement sent spikes of pains shooting up and down his body. Yet, with the knowledge his friends were nearby, he felt better than he'd done in a very long time.

Forant was cradling his left arm. His face was pinched, and the Ancient was obviously in no mood for humor. "Not before I put a bullet in your intrepid, but interfering Doctor McKay first."

John strained against the restraints. "You bastard! If you've killed him - Arrgh!"

Forant pressed a dressing down on the feeding mark with such force, John screamed at the torture. When the pressure eased, and the room stopped spinning, he became aware of another pressure and turned to see Forant sitting alongside, getting a direct transfusion of his blood.

The Ancient was clearly not used to being in pain, and sat staring ahead in complete silence, but John wanted a few answers. "Just a matter of interest, Forant, you could have come to these caves at any point in time. Why did you choose my timeline?"

"Why not?" He answered, then all of a sudden, the defensive tone vanished and he looked at John with a weary expression. "Honestly? If you must know, those little jaunts I took to try and win you round, used up most of my power."

John realised his surprise must have shown as Forant started to explain.

"I don't know why you look so shocked, John. It was always my wish for you to join me as a willing partner, but with that highly moral, not to mention stubborn streak of yours, I expected you to be a hard sell_._" Forant gave him a sad smile. "In anticipation of that, I pulled out all the stops, but I knew there would be a drain on the ships power - although perhaps not this much." John noticed he muttered that last bit almost to himself. "Anyway, it made good sense to come here, as _your_ Atlantis is where I need to be, and it's just a short jaunt through the Stargate." He said. "In any event, once we get home the time machine will no longer be required, as I'll be back home and ready to proceed with my plan. Besides, if I needed to use it again, it would be a simple matter to top up the flux capacitor with one of the ZPMs."

For a moment there was silence, and John used the time to try and take it all in. He was feeling woozy, probably from the blood loss, and could barely focus for the crippling pain coursing through his body. For a moment he thought Forant had left, then he felt the Ancients hot breath on his cheek and the ruthless expression was back.

"Just because this is your timeline nothing has changed, John. It makes no difference that your friends know I have you, because they still won't know where you are, or be able to find you this far underground. With this transfusion, I'll soon have the strength to heal my wounds, but regrettable yours will have to wait. In the meantime, you'll need to go into stasis for a while as I don't want your body to deteriorate."

John felt like crap, and now he had stasis to look forward too - _great_. "You're all heart, anyone ever tell you that, Forant?"

"Actually, no." Forant said, lifting an eyebrow in mock amusement. Then he called out. "Janus!" Forant shouted, and a few moments later the clone appeared by his side.

"What happened, father? What can I do to help?" The clone asked, staring at the dressing on Forant's arm.

John swore, as Forant yanked the line out of his arm. He felt dizzy, really out of it, and wondered how many pints the bastard had taken this time.

"Take John and put him into stasis, but be CAREFUL. He's badly wounded, and I don't want any more accidents." Forant's warning was clear.

Janus removed the restraints and was about to put on John's cuffs, when Forant forestalled him. "Not this time, Janus. His wrists are a mess, besides, stasis is the best restraint I know of - true?"

The clone smirked, and lifted John off the table. When he wasn't immediately put on his feet, it was clear Janus was about to carry him. John knew he needed some help, but not that much, plus he wanted to show Forant he wasn't beaten. "Put me down, I can walk." At his response, Janus glanced over at Forant who merely shrugged, then the clone took his good arm and shouldered him out of the room.

John hadn't seen a stasis chamber since he'd arrived and wondered where it could be. He was a pilot and used to cramped spaces, but didn't relish spending more time in one of the oppressive pods where he'd been frozen once before. Then, he'd had no option, as it was the only way he could survive the trip back through time in order to save Teyla. Now, he was going to become a Popsicle, just because he was low on Forant's list of priorities. Like a frigging piece of meat he'd be kept on ice until the Ancient could spare the time to fix the wounds he'd caused. John just hoped they would get there soon so he could get it over with, because right now he could barely stand, never mind try and keep up with the pace Janus was setting.

Suddenly, John felt Janus tense up then felt his arm tighten round his neck. "Whoever's out there – show yourself. Or I'll break his neck like twig."

Lorne appeared from the shadows along with a couple of marines and John smiled knowing they wouldn't be alone. "Hi guys, glad you could make the party." John choked, as the pressure increased around his throat.

"Quiet, Sheppard!" Janus growled at him then shouted to Lorne. "How did you get down here?"

"With me!" Dave called out, then John felt the residual sting of Ronon's stunner, as the Satedan fired on Janus, and the stunned clone lost his grip sending him sprawling onto the floor. Janus' face contorted with anger, as he kept moving forward, but a second blast did the job, and the clone seemed surprised, as he shuddered for a moment before he fell to his knees, then flat on his face.

John was in agony, but right now, he'd never been happier in his whole life. Then his foggy brain realised it shouldn't have been possible, and that someone risked their life to rescue him. And why was his brother there?

"I'm really pleased to see you, all of you, but how did you get…" John spotted the bracelet on Dave's wrist and his heart sank. "Who allowed this?" He asked, glaring at each of them in turn. "This man is a civilian, not to mention my brother and what the hell - he shouldn't even be here!"

"Don't blame them, John, I never gave them a choice." Dave informed him. "I just wanted my kid brother back. Besides, I always wanted to know what it felt like to be a hero." Dave broke into a smile as he got down on his knees and helped John lean against the wall. Then his face fell. "What has he done to you, John – you've aged."

"It's a long story." John caught Ronon, Teyla and Lorne looking at him with a mix of anger and concern. He appreciated their anxiety, and was worried about the implications of the not so virtual feeding himself, but silenced them with a nod. In any case, John knew this wasn't the time for explanations. He reached over and touched the bracelet around Dave's wrist, relieved when it released at his touch. John then placed it over his own wrist.

"Lorne." John turned to his XO, "Forant has been producing clones. How many, I don't know. But enough for a small army, so I want you and the men to destroy them."

"Yes, Colonel." Then Evan paused for a moment. "With all due respect, sir, you don't look so good. I'd really like to get you to Doctor Beckett first. He's waiting out in the jumper."

John slowly shook his head. "I'll keep. Right now, the safety of Atlantis is more important. In any case, you'll need me to get back out." He lifted the wrist with the bracelet on it. John knew that Lorne was concerned about him, and didn't want to have to repeat the order, so was pleased when Evan nodded then strode away.

He noticed that Ronon and Teyla hadn't moved, and were still standing, rooted to the spot. "That includes you too guys. I want you to set as many charges as you can, but leave markers of your path and stay in radio contact, it's a maze down here." John instructed, but his team mates just glanced at each other.

"I don't like leaving you behind, Sheppard. What if Forant finds you?" Ronon grunted, twitching his hand over his blaster.

"I agree, John." Teyla said her anxious brown eyes boring into his. "You are in no condition to defend yourself."

John smiled, and motioned to his brother. "Dave will keep me company, and Forant takes fire like any man. You proved that, Ronon, so give me a gun." After a moments hesitation Teyla handed him her firearm, and while he checked it, remembered something important. "How's Rodney?"

"The bullet fractured his shoulder, but Doctor Beckett says he will make a full recovery." Teyla answered, then she lowered her voice. "Right now, I'm more worried about you."

John leaned up and grasped her hand. "Go, Teyla. I'll be fine. Dave will bring me up to date on all the gossip while you're gone."

His friends hovered for a moment longer, looking uncertain, before giving him a last anxious look and striding away.

John knew Ronon was right, he was in bad shape and the danger wasn't over, but he still felt more in control than he'd been in a very long time. He also had a bone to pick with his brother. "You shouldn't have done it, Dave. You shouldn't have gone risking your life for me."

Dave's response was immediate and angry. "So what the hell are you saying, John - your life is worthless?" He spat out. "Well, I have a newsflash for you, brother, you don't have the right to decide what I think, say, or do." Then he went quiet, but when Dave next spoke there was a crack in his voice "Here's the thing, John, regardless of what you want you're important to me, and I'm not the only one who feels that way. There are people who would do anything for you…"

"Dave - look out!"

John yelled, but it was too late as Janus grabbed Dave by the shoulders and flung him against the wall. He watched in horror as his brother slid unconscious to the ground.

"You bastard!" John aimed the gun and fired, watching with satisfaction as a red patch grew on the clone's chest. It didn't stop him though, as, when he went to fire again, Janus yanked the gun out his hands, threw it away, then hauled him by the neck until his feet couldn't touch the ground.

Black spots were gathering and he could hardly see, could barely breathe, and was helpless to resist when an iron fist tore through his gut sending him flying down the corridor.

He hit the unforgiving rock floor with an explosion of pain, and passed out. When the fog slowly started to clear, he could feel the blood frothing in his mouth, running from his lips, the rancid taste of metal souring his stomach - but Janus wasn't finished. The clone appeared, stared down, and with a twisted smile stomped on his leg. "Arrraghhh!"

The crack echoed in the corridor, and his scream lasted until his hoarse voice trailed away. John couldn't move, and was in so much pain he just wanted it to be over, so was almost relieved when he saw Janus raise his foot high above his chest. Then a shot rang out.

For a second John thought he was having a hallucination, as the clone was still standing even though he had a large hole through his head. His face a mask of surprise, then hurt, as Janus turned to the unseen assailant before falling to the ground.

John knew he was in a bad way, and wasn't giving up, but if it was his time to go, he was glad he wouldn't be going alone – there was room in hell for the both of them. He wondered which one of his friends had taken the bastard down, when Forant appeared with a smoking pistol in his hand.

Something was broken deep inside, and each breath was tortuous, but John had to know. After all his years of planning, Forant had chosen to destroy his creation in order to save him. "Wh…y?"

Forant knelt down so their eyes could meet, and the old man looked bemused. "You really don't know by now, John?" The Ancient rubbed his wounded arm and grimaced, then turned to peer down from where he'd come. "I have no time to explain now, your friends are coming and I need to leave. Survive John Sheppard, because I hope we'll meet again."

Then Forant was gone, leaving him more confused than ever. John's brain was spinning, but he couldn't dwell on what just had happened as he needed all of his strength to hold on. He still had a job to do, and must stay focused and remain lucid long enough, to get them out the caves. If he didn't, it wouldn't just his life that would be lost. Then he heard a familiar voice moan, and could have cried with relief knowing Dave was alive, and his brother was going to be okay. Footsteps came running towards him and he heard Ronon shout his name, then his nightmare was finally over.

There wasn't much time, before the caves would be blasted to hell, so John tugged Ronon's sleeve. "Help…me…up." The big guy lifted him gently, but it still hurt like hell, and he couldn't suppress a groan. "Gt…get…Dave."

Lorne nodded, and went to help Teyla shoulder a woozy Dave over beside him. Once he saw everyone was within range, John pressed the button he recognised from the bracelet he'd worn on Forant's ship, but nothing happened. His hands were shaking and John could see everyone watch with concern, but he could do this, he would get his people home. So he tried again, and this time the black walls gave way to a small grassy knoll, with the Stargate standing straight ahead.

It was cold outside but still daylight, the first he'd seen in days. John shivered and felt Ronon pull his coat in close around him, the warmth felt good. He also felt safe now, safe enough to close his eyes…

ooooOoooo

TBC


	20. Chapter 20

I want to say a big thanks to all those who have reviewed. I have answered every one, so if you didn't get a reply it has been down to the system which has been playing up quite a bit! I regret that I haven't been able to answer those without accounts, as FF doesn't have that facility.

Of course the story isn't finished quite yet...

THE TIES THAT BIND

CHAPTER 20

Over the years Carson had patched up the Colonel many times. He'd cared for him through sickness, broken bones, bullet wounds and even went through the agony of watching him change into and out of a bug. This time took the biscuit though, as in all his years as a physician he'd never treated anyone who had endured so much, and was still alive. However keeping him that way was becoming a daily battle, but one he refused to lose. Carson was damned if John was going to die on his watch, he wouldn't let him.

Of course he reminded himself that most of those occasions were only memories. Images placed into his brain by Michael. Ever since Sheppard had found him in Michael's lab, Carson had been aware of what he was, a clone. A mere copy of the original, the man whose recollections he'd been given, long gone. The original Carson Beckett dead and buried, at least – what was left of him.

In the time that passed since, he'd worked hard, strived if not to take his place, at least to try and honor his memory. Yet it wasn't his friends who treated him differently, it was how he felt about himself. Carson's friends and colleagues all accepted him, pleased to have his reincarnation back in their midst. Regardless of what they said though, he still felt substandard, an inferior imitation.

Every day he tried to justify his existence, and the challenge to save the desperately ill man lying pale, and deathly still on the bed, was more onerous than any he'd faced before. John Sheppard was his friend, and Carson was determined not to let him slip from his grasp.

"Any change?" Dave was standing there white as a sheet, leaning heavily against the door frame.

Carson was about to give him a flea in his ear for not resting, but he saw his anxiety, so went over and took his arm instead. "No, there isn't I'm afraid. Here, if you must disobey my orders, at least sit down." He guided Dave onto a chair next to John's bed.

"How are you feeling today?" Carson asked him, assessing him while Dave made his response. "My head hurts, no surprise there, huh?" Dave gave him a wry smile. "But the nausea's gone, and I only feel dizzy if I move too fast."

"Well concussions are like that," Carson said, "just ask your brother when he comes round. I think he holds the record for the base."

Dave dropped his eyes to the man lying on the bed. Carson saw his fear, felt it himself, but pushed it aside to deal with the business in hand, saving John's life.

"Will I be able to?" Dave voice was so quiet, Carson barely heard him. For a while he wondered what Dave was talking about, then he remembered the comment he'd made only moments before.

Carson considered his response carefully as they both looked at Sheppard. He wanted to give Dave hope, but John was a mess. His body swathed in bandages, the skin beyond, covered in livid bruises, his left leg suspend in traction. John had been in a coma ever since the lengthy surgery to repair a punctured lung and ruptured spleen. Now, he was still hooked up to a vent days later – the only thing keeping him alive.

"I hope so. The colonel has survived a lot of scrapes before."

"But none as bad as this…has he?" Dave voice cracked, and he sounded frightened.

He thought about lying, telling him that everything would be okay, except he really didn't know. Carson couldn't lie though; his mother had brought him up too well, besides it wouldn't be a kindness if the worst did happen. "Look, Dave, I know that things don't look too good at the moment." he said, "but I'm not going to give up, and neither should you."

Carson saw his eyes grow moist and his hand shaking, then Dave turned to him. "I know you want me to rest, Carson, but can't I do that here?"

Dave looked like hell, but he didn't have the heart to separate the brothers. "Tell you what, son. How about you sit beside him for a bit, talk to him maybe. Then when you feel the need to shut your eyes, take the next bed."

"Thanks, Carson. Do you think John will hear me?" Dave asked, sounding uncertain.

He patted him on the shoulder and smiled. "I don't see why not. From all the studies I've read any stimuli; talking, touching, playing them music can have an effect. Just no hard rock – please! We do have other patients here, and Rodney is already complaining enough for all of them." Carson joked, hoping to relieve the tension.

A small smile grew on Dave's face. "Yes, I visited him earlier. He really isn't a very _patient,_ patient, is he?" He gave a small laugh, but his face soon clouded over, and he became serious again. "He is desperate to see John."

Carson nodded. "Aye, I know. And I'm going to arrange for him to visit later today if his x-rays look okay. Then, if everything goes to plan, hopefully we can get him back to his quarters the day after tomorrow – then we can all get some peace." He made a face, and Dave gave a real laugh this time.

"Anyway, I don't want you wearing yourself out – okay?" Carson gave him a pointed look as he turned to go, but Dave just nodded as he'd already started talking to John, recalling stories of their childhood.

He was tempted to stay and listen, as the military commander was such a private man, and gave so little away of his past. Then Carson realised he had no right to intrude in this one-sided conversation, so took one last glance at the two brothers, then left.

ooooOoooo

Richard rubbed the back of his neck and reached for the Tylenol hidden in his drawer. His head was pounding, but nearly two weeks after the rescue had taken place, he was still no closer to finishing his report.

Even for the Pegasus galaxy it was a bizarre case, pure science fiction, and his report was fast resembling something Isaac Asimov would come up with. His military commander had returned near death, suffering numerous horrendous injuries, but within days, some of them had inexplicably disappeared.

Much to everyone's surprise the feeding mark was gone, the bullet wound too and John Sheppard had regained his youth, if not his consciousness. The man was still in a coma, although now breathing on his own, and Richard was still hopeful he would pull through. Beckett was determined he would, but there was something the doctor wanted to discuss with him. So, pushing back his chair Richard got up, stretched out the kinks in his back, then gradually made his way to the infirmary.

On the way there, his progress was slowed by enquiries from the military contingent, scientists and even Martha who worked in the mess, all asking the same question – how was Colonel Sheppard? Richard didn't pretend to know the man as well as his team, or even those who'd worked with him for the duration. He did suspect however, that his modest Commander would be surprised at how much he was respected, even loved, by the people on the base.

Inside the infirmary, he saw the usual flurry of activity that occurred in every hospital during the middle of the day. Except within the intensive care unit, where he noticed it was quiet, apart for the low steady beep of machines, and McKay regaling an unconscious Sheppard with the gossip from the base. If Carson hadn't been expecting him, Richard would have considered listening for a while…

"Mr Woolsey, thanks for coming down. Please, come into the office." He turned to see Beckett standing there, and Richard turned away from watching the two friends and went inside.

He took the seat Beckett offered and leaned back folding his arms, curious to hear what Carson didn't feel he could discuss during that mornings briefing.

"It's about Colonel Sheppard." Carson blurted out, and Richard was pleased the doctor was getting straight to the point.

Richard nodded. "I presumed as much. How is he, Carson? Has there been any sign he's coming out of the coma?"

The Scot seemed to get a bit agitated, and Richard knew something was coming. "I'm afraid not, but I think I may know the reason why."

The doctor then turned on his laptop, and Richard could see three minuscule, pin like objects lodged in a human brain. He guessed immediately it was Sheppard.

"I'm presuming those are the sensors lodged in the Colonel's brain?" Richard asked.

"Yes, and Rodney thinks they could be responsible for his prolonged coma." Becket responded in a matter of fact tone.

"Am I to understand that Doctor McKay has been down in the lab?" Richard became irritated. "I thought he was only on light duty?"

Beckett's expression mirrored his. "Aye, he is. Although I always guessed that was going to be a lost cause." He said. "Deep down I knew nothing was going to keep him away, not while there was a chance he could help John. Anyway, in the end we reached a compromise where he sits and supervises, and Radek acts as watchdog."

Richard shook his head and smiled. "Poor Radek, Doctor McKay is quite a character isn't he?"

He'd worked with Rodney McKay for a while now, and still didn't truly understand the brilliant, but aggravating man. Richard wouldn't deny his considerable contribution to Atlantis, but what he did find surprising was how close he was to Sheppard. As far as he could tell, the two men were like chalk and cheese, complete opposites. He didn't understand the connection, but then again, there was a lot about Atlantis he'd still to learn. Including the fact many of the rules he'd once considered good friends, didn't apply here. Richard had found out soon after arriving that life in Pegasus, wasn't like Earth, and his rule book was being amended on a weekly, and sometimes daily basis.

The Scot slumped against his chair, and Richard thought he looked tired, as Carson continued speaking."As you know, the objects scatted through the Colonel's body were sensors, which Rodney now believes were implanted to monitor and record his response to certain stimuli." Beckett told him but then his expression became grave. "However the ones in his brain seem to have had a slightly different function, and Rodney thinks they acted both to deliver signals to the brain, as well as recording what he was experiencing."

He unfolded his arms and leaned forward onto the desk. "So what are you telling me, Carson?"

"Bottom line - we suspect the poor bugger lying out there was forced to relive certain events from his past." The doctor's voice was filled with rage. "And from some of the wounds we saw when he first arrived, it doesn't take a genius like Rodney to know what some of them were."

Richard couldn't blame Carson being angry. He hadn't been present in Atlantis during the missions Beckett was referring to, but he'd read the reports before arriving. For someone, especially a blood relation, to put Sheppard through those situations again, was both callus and cruel in the extreme.

"I understand what you're saying, Carson, but what I don't understand is how a memory can trigger a physical wound." He asked, his headache getting worse at the thought of how the IOA were going to receive that particular _gem_.

Beckett scratched his head. "No, neither do I, and Rodney suspects Forant didn't expect that reaction either, as why go to all the bother of kidnapping the Colonel, only to kill him?" The two men sat in silence for a moment before Carson continued. "Anyway…as Forant hadn't anticipated the problem, Rodney thinks the headset malfunctioned in some way, as in every other respect his other injuries are healing well."

"Do we know why it didn't cause Colonel Sheppard to go into a coma after the device was initially used? Richard asked. "As by all accounts, he was perfectly lucid, and giving orders when the rescue team arrived."

Carson shrugged. "Honestly, I don't have a clue." He said. "My best guess is the severe beating he received from that bloody clone, was one trauma too many for his body to cope with, and if there was any residual power left in those sensors – well, it may have been too much for his brain to cope with."

Richard sat for a moment and digested the information Carson had just given him. Then he asked the million dollar question. "Isn't it a bit risky doing another major surgery, so soon after the last one?"

Carson got up and went to pour himself a cup of coffee. He offered one to Woolsey, but Richard declined, and the Scot resumed his chair. He looked conflicted. "Yes, it's a big risk. Apart from the serious nature of the last surgery John also had the added complication of extreme blood loss. We obviously pumped in as many units as we could before we started, but his body still hasn't had the chance to recover properly." Beckett told him, then took another sip before continuing. "Unfortunately the longer time goes by with no sign of the coma lifting, I don't have much of a choice. In any case I don't think the Colonel would want any of Forant's experiments left inside him - do you?"

Richard sighed, and rubbed his forehead. The headache was now at migraine proportions, and now he felt squeamish too. "Fine, do what you need to do. I'm curious though, if this is solely a medical matter, why did you feel you needed to consult me, before you operated?"

"Because this is brain surgery, and there is always the chance that either he could die, or sustain permanent damage." Carson told him bluntly, his concern clearly visible.

"What about that formula Forant gave you when he came to Atlantis two years ago?" Richard asked, remembering the attack Sheppard received that first brought the Ancient into his life.

"It was the first thing I thought of, but it's gone, vanished from the database." Carson told him, his face scarlet with anger. "The sneaky bastard must have removed it at the same time as he downloaded that bloody Trojan."

Now Richard understood why Carson wanted to speak to him, and he knew a decision had to be made. "What are the odds of success?"

"Better than last time, as the sensors are small and close to the surface – but there's still a significant risk." Beckett responded, and Richard could see the concern in his worried features. It matched his own.

"Well like you say, I don't think we have a choice, so do what you have to do, Carson. Besides we both know Colonel Sheppard would want them removed at some stage. Apart from anything else, they are a potential security risk." That thought had just come to him, but at Carson's confused expression, Richard explained. "If they remain, there is always the possibility Forant could try to use them to make contact with Sheppard, or even attempt to establish control over him. Provided of course he _is _still alive, which I believe to be the case."

Now the matter was decided, Richard wanted to go and nurse his headache in the privacy of his office. However, as he went to rise off the seat, he was stopped by Carson's hand around his wrist.

"What are you doing, Carson?" He knew it was a stupid question, as it was obvious the doctor was taking his pulse. He just wanted to know why.

"My job, Mr Woolsey" He said simply. "When you walked into my office I could tell from your pupils you have a headache, and I suspect it's a migraine." Carson released his grasp, then went over to a cabinet and retrieved a couple of tablets. "These are stronger than Tylenol, take them and go straight to bed – I don't want you back on duty until tomorrow."

"I'm sorry, Doctor, but I can't spare the time…" Richard went to protest further, but saw the firm set of Beckett's jaw and knew this wasn't a request. He was well aware that on any military base, the MO had absolute authority when it came to medical matters, so in this instance it was Beckett who had the final say. The Scot had him over a barrel. "Fine, I suppose there's no point in denying it."

"No, Mr Woolsey, there isn't. And if you don't feel any better tomorrow, I want you to come back." Carson instructed.

Richard nodded and managed to raise a small smile. "I'm sure I'll be fine by then. But I suppose I should thank you, Carson, for I now have the perfect excuse to leave my report for another day…"

ooooOoooo

TBC

I hope you enjoyed that, and please review.


	21. Chapter 21

THE TIES THAT BIND

CHAPTER 21

"Again! If I'd been a Wraith, you'd be dead, marine." Ronon's face was scarlet with rage, as he yelled at the blond-haired young man who was lying, panting, on the mat.

"Would you mind if I interrupted, Corporal Millar? I'd like to have a workout with my team mate." Teyla had been watching by the doorway, but now entered the training room. The Athosian suppressed a smile at the relief flooding the young soldiers flushed features.

"No problem, ma'am." The young man gasped, and fell over as he scrambled to his feet. He gave her a grateful nod as he winced, staggering out the room.

Teyla stood with her bantos sticks twirling in her hands in a graceful, rhythmic motion. "Shame on you, Ronon, for taking your frustration out on that young man." She gave her friend a gentle rebuke. "Rodney, Dave and I were waiting for you in the observation room. You do know that John is going through his operation?"

Ronon was glistening with sweat, and looked tense, feral. "Yeah, I knew. I'm not good at waiting. Besides, what good will sitting around watching his brain get cut open do? I should have been there when he needed me."

The sticks went silent, and her eyes filled with remorse. "I haven't forgotten either, Ronon, but there is no good to be had in regret – here." Teyla threw him one of the sticks, "if you must take your aggression out on someone, let it be me."

Teyla watched Ronon eye her with suspicion but when she threw the first blow, he defended as she knew he would. It had been a long time since she'd worked out with the sticks, perhaps too long, yet the familiar rhythm soon returned. It felt liberating working her muscles until they ached, releasing the pent up anger she too had been feeling since they found John near death in the caves. She had failed him, yet what was to be done now? Live or die, Teyla knew John wouldn't want either her or Ronon to waste their lives. To honour their friend they mustn't give up hope, but if the worst happened, they needed to continue their fight against the Wraith, and Teyla wanted Ronon to see that too.

As the bout continued, she was pleased to see her skill matched Ronon's strength, making them equal opponents. Best of all, she could see a glint appear and the first smile from the big Satedan in weeks. Her body was wet with perspiration, and loose strands of moist hair stuck to her face. Teyla was tired, but despite her exhaustion she felt more alive than she'd been in a long time. It wasn't that she didn't love Kanaan, or her precious son, but she was more than a partner, more than a mother, she was also a warrior, and this felt so good…

"Ahem…If you two are quite finished beating the crap out of each other, I thought you might want to know how Sheppard was." The two warriors, stopped dead, and turned to see an irritated looking Rodney standing at the door.

The sound of wood hitting the floor reverberated around the room, and Rodney grimaced at the noise. He waited until the echo stopped before he spoke. "Carson said the surgery went well without any complications. Of course he can't be sure until John comes round, but Carson doesn't seem to think he's sustained any permanent damage from the procedure."

Teyla smiled and she noticed Ronon visibly relax. "Anyway," Rodney said, "I thought maybe we could go for a coffee or something while they settle him back in the ward."

"Sounds good." Ronon used the back of his arm to wipe the sweat off his face. "Think I'll hit the shower first – I'll meet you in ten."

The Satedan picked up his stick, handed it to Teyla and grinned. "Good workout." He then nodded to Rodney and walked away.

When he'd left, Teyla turned to the scientist. "I'm sorry, Rodney, for leaving you and Dave alone."

Rodney handed her a towel. "Don't worry about it, Dave and I were okay, but Ronon has been beating himself up for a long time. _Sorry_, bad pun." He grimaced at his own joke. "He thinks he let me down, then Sheppard, but that's garbage. I've tried to tell him bad things happen in life sometimes, and not even a tough guy like him can stop it, but with the big guy words don't always mean much. I think you got through to him today though, so thanks." Rodney was about to leave, then he turned, tilted his head, and gave her a searching look. "You're a pretty smart woman, Teyla. Not as clever as me, of course, but definitely not too shabby." He said with a glint in his eyes.

Teyla's lips twitched, as she tried and failed to keep her face straight. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Rodney, but we are a good team. Aren't we?"

"Yes we are" Rodney said with a smug smile, that suddenly faded, "or we will be once Sheppard's okay."

ooooOoooo

There was a dull ache over all his body and his head hurt like a bitch, but John didn't care, he'd made it back alive. It was a surprise given he'd expected to wake up dead, but it was pretty obvious the powers that be had decided to spare his sorry ass again, why? He hadn't a freaking clue.

Survival came with a price, as the dull aches started to sharpen up, and now his skull felt like it was going to explode. "Mmmnaggh…"

John knew that didn't sound like "_Hi, I'm awake, can I get more happy juice please?"_ but it did the trick as he felt a firm warm hand grab his wrist, along with it's owner's familiar lilting Scottish brogue.

"Easy, Colonel. Wait until I get you some ice chips before you try and speak. It's been a wee while since you've used your voice, son." Carson spoke softly, then John felt the ice-cold wonders popped into his mouth. They felt like heaven to his rough, dry throat.

"Thanx, Car…un." John choked out the works, surprised at how thin and weak he sounded.

"It's good to hear you, Colonel, so how about opening your eyes for me now?" Carson asked. John dreaded facing the bright lights of the infirmary, but he obeyed, only to find his vision was blurred. He felt himself start to panic.

"What's wrong, Colonel, can't you see me?" Carson sounded concerned.

John licked his lips to try and get some moisture before he spoke. " Fuzzy."

The three Scotsmen by his bed, seemed to relax and nodded in unison. "Aye, I expected that." Then he explained. "I had to do a wee bit of brain surgery to take out those bloody sensors. The operation went well, but I was messing with your head, Colonel, so I expect there to be some residual effects."

Carson's comments didn't reassure him, because as a pilot his eyesight meant everything to him. If he couldn't fly again...John felt himself start to tense up, and the soft back ground beeps started to get louder.

"Calm down, Colonel, I know what you're thinking, but your sight should get back to normal in a few days." The Scot informed him, but also gave him a warning, "in the meantime there could be other side effects too – you might find your voice a little slurred for a while, and your taste buds won't be up to par for a few days either. Still, that might be no bad thing, as you'll only be able to eat broth to start with." The trio all smiled at their bad joke, and while John was relieved, he was too sore and miserable to smile back.

"I know you're hurting, John, but bear with me for a few minutes, as I need to check your responses first." Carson then took each hand in turn and pressed each finger. John felt them all. Then the doctor went through the same process with his feet. His right side was fine, but his left leg felt a bit strange.

"Wha?" John stammered.

Carson gave his arm a pat, "It's fine, Colonel. Your left tib and fib is broken, so I would expect the reaction to feel slightly muted there." He informed him, and John let out a sigh of relief. The small movement made him moan, as a sharp pain pierced through his chest.

The doctor's expression was sympathetic as he took a loaded syringe from the tray on the bedside table. "Time for that top up now, and when you awake next time, you should feel a little better – promise."

Within minutes of the cool liquid seeping into his veins, he felt his pain start to ease. John knew he'd got lucky again, damn lucky. Yet, even as he started to relax he fought off sleep. Sleep brought with it memories, things he would rather forget. Nightmares which he'd pushed to the past now back to haunt him in full freaking Technicolor…

ooooOoooo

Beckett was as good as his word, as John's sight, speech and senses did eventually return to normal. A little longer than the few days he'd promised, but eventually John was only left with his physical condition to content with. Only though, was a subjective term, as even loaded with Carson's good drugs, he still ached from head to toe, and John grew depressed knowing yet another long, down time beckoned.

John was also struggling with what had happened to him. From as far back as he could remember, he'd always felt in control, master of his own destiny, until the day Forant abducted him. In the weeks that followed, Forant tried to take that from him, along with the world he knew, the people he cared for, and the life he'd worked so hard to achieve. The bastard had even tried to steal his memories from him. They weren't good ones to be sure, but they were his. Trials he'd endured, bad times that had helped make him the man he was, and the gut wrenching fact was, if he hadn't been rescued, John knew he would have probably ended up completely under Forant's control.

When Lorne told him the clones had been destroyed, he was relieved. John's only regret was he'd been so out of it, he'd missed the fireworks. He really hoped the explosion had taken out Forant too. Killed the Ancient who'd made his life a misery, and sent him to hell – 'cause that's what he'd done to him. John knew Forant had ultimately saved his life, but that would never make up for what he'd done. He wanted him dead, out of the family album, so dear old grandpa couldn't bother him again. At least that's what he hoped for, but the way his life worked, somehow John didn't think he could get that lucky.

"How do you feel like a wee trip outside?" Carson was standing by the bed, and John was so deep in thought he'd hadn't heard him approach.

"Wanting rid of me already?" John gave him a half smile. He knew Carson was surprised he hadn't tried any of his usually escape routines. The truth was he didn't want to leave the ward. John felt safe in the infirmary. It was always bustling with activity, with people around watching, taking care of him.

The Scot just drew him a look, and John could tell he was worried by his response. So he decided to distract him. "By the way, I met your _Ancient." _he said simply. "His name was Tomand, and he looked just like you. Of course he didn't have your accent, but he seemed like a nice guy. He asked me, or should I say Forant, if I wanted to join him for dinner." John's smile grew wide. "It seems you and I have always been destined to be friends, Carson."

Carson shook his head and smiled. "That must have been a strange experience for you, John." He sounded bemused, then his expression became serious. "But you had a lot of strange, unsettling and cruel things happen to you." Carson caught his gaze, but John looked away, trying to hide the raw inner pain which kept him awake, night after night.

Unfortunately, he realised Carson wasn't going to let it drop. "Look, John I'm not going to pretend to know what it must have been like. Kidnapped, tortured, removed from your time, and everyone you knew, must have been hellish. But as your friend, as well as your doctor, you need to offload to someone. I know how you feel about psychiatrists, but if not a shrink then what about Teyla, Rodney, Ronon or even me? " Carson muttered that last part, and John thought he sounded a little hurt. "There's also Dave?" The Scot suggested. "I know you try to protect him, but he's seen some of the horrors in your life now, so the cat's out the bag. And honestly, I know he could take it."

John could feel the heat rising in his face. He knew Beckett meant well, they all did, but he wasn't ready to talk, and didn't know if he ever would be. Right now, he just wanted to crawl back into his shell. "Do you mind if we left the trip for later, Carson? I'm feeling kinda tired now."

"I thought you said he'd be ready, Carson?" John heard a rumble, and glanced round sideways to see Rodney standing there with Ronon who was holding a wheelchair. The scientist was rubbing his wounded arm, looking at them both impatiently. John still felt guilty about what happened to his buddy, as it because of his connect to Forant, Rodney got shot.

Carson turned to the pair and shrugged. "The Colonel doesn't want to go - he'd rather have a nap."

"You can nap later, Sheppard – get in." Ronon grunted.

Normally John would have caved in, but today he just wasn't in the mood to go anywhere. "No thanks Ronon, maybe tomorrow."

"Aw come on, Sheppard! Teyla has arranged a picnic. She's waiting along with your brother. Remember him, nice guy, the man who risked his life to save you?" Rodney blurted out, rolling his eyes for added effect.

For a brief moment, John was angry at Rodney for using that incident of all things to land a guilt trip on him, then he realised it was just typical McKay snark. Rodney didn't mean anything by it, he really was feeling oversensitive. "Thanks, and I mean that, guys," he said, "but I never asked for any of this. And thank Teyla for me, tell her I'm sorry. Now please…I really am tired and sore."

Rodney seemed to deflate in front of his eyes, and Ronon shoved the chair away looking pissed. John couldn't bear to see them hurt, so he feigned sleep shutting them out. He kept that way for a few more minutes, until he heard the distinctive footsteps heading out the ward.

John felt drained, like a worthless heel and he really didn't know why he'd done that. What the hell was wrong with him? Then as if a cloud lifted from his weary brain, it slowly dawned on him. He'd done it for their own good. If he pushed them away now, it would be easier in the long run. They had to learn he was no leader, at least not any more. Forant's domination had showed him how weak and helpless he truly was. If he couldn't stop himself from being kidnapped and persecuted, then how could he protect others? So the sooner these good people shifted their allegiance to someone more worthy, the better.

ooooOoooo

Out on the balcony the sun was beginning to set but despite it growing cold, none of Sheppard's friends wanted to leave. The food lay untouched, only the beer had been consumed in larger quantities than usual, supplemented with some good single malt, that Carson just happened to have lying around. They felt hurt, angry, but more than that they felt helpless. John was the one who was really in pain, and none of them had been able to reach him. It wasn't a feeling that sat well with any of them, but for a genius like Rodney, it rankled more than most. He could tell his friend was on a downward spiral, they all could, and something had to be done, before they lost Sheppard once and for all.

"He didn't mean it…" Carson told them, his voice breaking the silence which had pervaded since they'd appeared on the balcony, sans one belligerent Lt Colonel.

"Should've made him come." Ronon mumbled, before grabbing another beer. Rodney was already feeling woozy, having had only a few and watched with something akin envy, as he didn't know where the big guy put it all.

Teyla pushed back from the railing where she had been staring out on the city. "Forcing him would only have made things worse, Ronon." She said in a soft but firm voice. "We all know John's not been himself since he came back, and needs help, but he needs to let us in on his own terms."

Carson nodded his head in agreement. "That's true, but the problem is, lass, I can't allow this continue much longer. If there's no progress soon, I'll have no choice but to send him for psychiatric treatment, Stateside."

Dave shuffled forward to help himself to more of Carson's whisky. "I never thought I would ever say this, guys, but I don't want John coming home. Not like that." He took a swallow and continued. "John loves this place, his work, all of you. There must be something we can do to remind him of that. To show him he belongs here."

Rodney scraped his chair back, and staggered uncertainly to his feet. "I've an idea - don't wait up."

ooooOoooo

_His teeth rattled as the drill drove into his skull again and again, but he couldn't move. __He was helpless, completely under Forant's control. Then when he saw Todd appear in the doorway, John knew he was going to repeat the horror and gut wrenching agony all over again… _

John's head jerked up and he moaned softly. He was drenched in sweat and had set off the headache from hell once again. Not to mention waking up all the numerous aches in his body. The call button was by his hand, but he resisted the temptation to use it. Carson already suspected he had nightmares, so John didn't want to add fuel to the fire. So he lay silent while his heart beat slowed to a steady rhythm, and his hands stopped shaking, before reaching for a glass of water. Then out of the corner of his eye he saw him. Rodney was slumped in a chair next to his bed, snoring.

"McKay?" John called softly, as he didn't want to wake up the neighbours. When he moved closer, he could tell his friend had been drinking, Bud by the smell of it, and felt a little jealous. Then John realised he might have enjoyed one himself, if he hadn't been so stubborn. He waited for a moment, but when it was clear his subtle wake up call hadn't done the trick, he tried again by giving him a nudge on his good arm.

"Wha? Who?" Rodney blinked, then tried to rub his eyes with his bad arm. "Ow!"

John cringed in sympathy. "Easy there, buddy. Do you want a glass of water?" He asked, then quipped "I'd offer you something stronger, but I reckon you've already had enough."

Rodney's smile was strained, and John felt bad for accidently hurting him. He was relieved when a few moments later, the pained expression had gone, and his buddy seemed back to normal. "Oh, yeah - I see what you mean, and yes, some water would be good. My mouth feels like a rat crawled in and died in there."

He filled up the glass, annoyed to find he still had a touch of the post nightmare tremors, but McKay didn't seem to notice. John then waited until his friend drank his fill before he spoke.

"It's a bit late for visiting, Rodney. Why are you here?"

He watched, puzzled, as Rodney reached down and produced his chessboard.

John lay back and folded his arms. "I enjoy a game of chess as much as the next guy, Rodney, but don't you think it's a bit late to be starting a game?"

With only one fully working arm, Rodney was making slow work of laying down the pieces, and didn't look round from his task as he answered. "We're not - not starting that is. This is this game we were playing just before you left. We didn't finish it, remember?"

For a moment John went silent, as the memory came flooding back. He had taken his laptop on vacation as they were intending finishing the game via email, then of course, Forant arrived. "Yeah, well, even so, Rodney, can't this wait until tomorrow?"

"Nope, it can't." Rodney sat back and looked him straight in the eye. "It's your move, Sheppard."

John had no intention of playing, but when he saw his last move set out on the board, his face fell. He remembered scratching out that very move on Rodney's workbench in the old Atlantis, before returning to Forant's ship. He looked up to see Rodney smiling at him

"It was brilliant, John, but a risky thing to do, especially given the fact you didn't know it would still be there in the future for me to find." Rodney's voice was quiet, but John could hear the admiration and wondered why.

"I'm glad it worked, but how did you figure out it was me?" John asked, curious.

"I'd never noticed it before, probably because it was covered by papers," Rodney mumbled that last bit under his breath, then his eyes went wide, "but of course when I saw it, I recognised the move. After all the years we've worked together, Sheppard, I know how your mind works. The message could only have been left by you."

John shrugged. "Well, I knew it wouldn't do me any good, but I wanted to let you know I was alive, and to give you the heads up it was Forant behind it." John was embarrassed when his voice cracked, and he struggled to get a grip before he continued. "At the time I knew rescue was out the question, as I was out of my time and couldn't do a damn thing to help myself. Forant had me just where he wanted, and if it wasn't for you guys figuring it out… "

Rodney slowly shook his head. "We might have been the ones to come get you, but it was your clue that set the rescue in motion, John. Sure, Forant abducted you in his fancy ship and for a while he had the upper hand, but it was your smarts, and bravery that saved you." John couldn't trust himself to speak, but it didn't matter, as Rodney was in full flow. "'Before we met, I thought I had all the answers, but in those days, I would only follow the evidence, and waited until I justified my conclusions before I put any theory into action. You though, you were the one who taught me to think outside the box and with my gut, not just my head. So because of you, Sheppard, and your confidence that I'd work out that weird, crazy sign of yours, I went to Tynos on nothing but a hunch." Rodney rubbed his wound, and winced. "Okay, I will admit getting shot wasn't exactly part of the plan."

"Really?" John said quietly, amazed at his friend's revelation.

"Yes, _really_." Rodney broke into a smile. "You're a smart guy, Sheppard, for a non-geek. Not just that, I've seen how your influence has helped shape lives - look at Ronon." Then his friend went uncharacteristically quiet for a moment before he turned to face him, full on. "The fact is, flyboy, as much as I'm the resident genius around here, it's you who holds this place together. You've got to snap out of whatever's going on in that spiky head of yours, because we need our military commander back."

John swallowed, and scraped a shaking hand through his hair. "I don't know what to say…"

Rodney tapped the chessboard. "I think I've done enough talking for both of us, at least for now, so let's just finish this game. Next, I want your help in finding that other Trojan Forant planted. If he is still alive, we can't risk the bastard paying us a surprise visit, can we?"

"He's alive, I'm sure of it." John could feel his hackles start to rise, and the anger felt good, empowering. It was the first time he'd felt strong for weeks, and was ashamed to realise he'd nearly let Forant ruin his life. The old man's domination had been so oppressive and overwhelming, he'd left him feeling weak, useless. He'd lost faith in himself, but no more.

Then and there he was determined if there was a next time, it would be him calling the shots. In fact John began to relish meeting him again, as he wanted revenge, but not for himself. The Ancient had shot Rodney and created the monster that wounded Beckett and his brother – he would pay for that.

"Well, are you going to take _all_ night?" Rodney was looking at him impatiently.

John roused himself, and realised he'd zoned out, because it was clear Rodney had been watching him for a while. "Sorry, Rodney and, thanks_."_

"Forget it - but you can arrange the party next time. Oh, and I expect to see you in my lab tomorrow."

ooooOoooo

The crutches made his progress slow and clumsy, his shoulders aching under the strain, but it felt good to be once again under his own steam. It made him feel independent again, back in control, and at last John could see the light start to appear at the end of a very long, dark tunnel.

Dave looked every inch the business man as he stood waiting by the 'gate and John smiled. He still found it hard to believe this captain of industry, who up till now suffered nothing more than a paper cut, was the same man who'd got hurt, risking his life to save him.

The sunlight danced on the floor, and its reflection shone on Dave's face as he turned to greet him, and John saw the boyish grin appear. He was going to miss him. "So…all set then?"

Dave gave his collar a tug. "It's going to take a while to get used to wearing a tie again, but yeah. It's time I went back."

The piece of dark blue silk looked a little squint, so John leant forward to straighten it, but nearly toppled over in the process. Dave caught him. "Easy, bro! As much as I like to visit, next time I'd rather it didn't involve hospitals or near death situations." Dave quipped, as he held him, and John felt the warmth of his brothers firm hands on his shoulders, until he was once again firmly steady on his feet.

"About that, will you get the house ready for me and the guys to visit in say, a couple of months?" John asked. "I'm hoping to be able to swim again by then. Unfortunately, I don't think the leg will be strong enough for surfing, but if I can get Carson out the way – I might give it a try." John winked and whispered the last part, just in case the Scot happened to pass by.

Dave's face fell and he looked concerned. "Are you sure you want to go back there, John? It must hold some bad memoires."

John knew his brother cared for him; in fact they were closer now than they'd ever been. He was also aware Dave wasn't the only one who was worried about his decision. Even to his own ears it sounded crazy, but it was something he had to do.

"It's a beautiful house and I'm damned if that bastard is going to spoil it for me." John spat out the last part. "I have to do this, Dave. I need to show him I'm not afraid, and prove to myself I'm in charge of my own life." John could feel himself shaking with anger as the words came out.

"Fine, if that's what you want I'll make sure it's ready." Dave said. "Although you do know I will be coming to check up on you?" His brother told him, and John was relieved to see the smile back.

"I was hoping for that, besides I want you to come with me on a stake out." John asked, and when Dave looked confused he explained. "I'd like to see that cute doctor friend of Carson's. He won't let me meet her in case she recognises me from the day, but Ronon said she still looks hot. Is that true?"

Dave grinned. "Yes, Stella is one good looking woman alright, but Carson better watch – her husband is Chief of Police."

The brothers shared a smile, then Dave extended his hand, and John grasped it warmly. Dave though, had something more to say. "Seriously, John, you have nothing to prove to anyone, especially Forant. Think about it kid, that's why he grabbed you. He wanted his army to have your courage, your inner strength. Where he went wrong, and his biggest mistake, was he didn't value your compassion."

John stood for a moment, too speechless for words, then nodded to Chuck. Dave stood to attention, gave him a salute, and with a final nod, he had gone, leaving John feeling a little lost standing on his own.

"It's good to see you back on your feet, Colonel." John turned round to find Lorne watching him.

John gave him a wry smile and got into a lumbering step beside him. "Thanks, Major, but technically its _foot_, not feet, but once the cast is off, I'm hoping to be back on light duty in a couple of weeks."

Lorne looked relieved. "Well, I for one am pleased to hear that, Colonel, you have mighty big boots to fill."

John felt himself flush with embarrassment, and was pleased when Sgt Conway diverted Lorne's attention. The two men went into a confab about missing ordnance, then saluted and walked away.

It seemed to take hours, and by the time he reached the recreation room, John was achy and exhausted. He was happy with what he saw though, Martha had done him proud.

The tables were laden with pizza, burgers and for Teyla a nice mixed salad. There were also cases of beer, and some single malt for Carson, because his guys had drained the doc's last bottle. John knew he had some making up to do, but was aware this small offering was only chump change compared to what he'd received from the people who not only had saved his life, but also his sanity.

Forant hadn't just damaged his body, he'd also stolen a piece of his soul, and John shuddered when he thought of what he'd nearly lost. A career which he loved, a place where he fitted in for the first time in his life. Most important of all, his friends and Dave. They had supported him, stuck by him, even when he'd given up on himself, and that was one debt he could never repay.

John knew there was a way to go, but he was now stumbling along the road ahead by himself. He also knew with friends like his, he would never be truly alone. Forant was still out there, he was sure of it, could feel it in his bones, but dwelling on the past would only destroy him, and give The Ancient the hold he'd wanted.

The nightmares still lingered, but were getting less every day. He was coping if not recovered, but until then he would do what he did best - smile, suck up the pain and keep holding on until it passed. Life was a rollercoaster so the adage went, and his certainly was. He'd had some highs, and way too many lows to count. Still, what had he really to complaint about? After all, he'd survived once again to fight another day…

THE END

Thanks for all the great reviews, and alerts, and to all of you who followed the story. Thanks too to my beta **Sherry 57**, and apologies for all the tweaks I made since your beta. The mistakes were unfortunately all mine!

I hope you enjoyed it, and if you did please let me know. If you didn't, con crit is always welcome.

Forant of course is a bit of a loose end. Is he dead? Well, I'll let you guy's decide. If you want to see a round 3, then let me know!


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